Those Beating Hearts Of Ours
by ADLOCKandMYTHEA
Summary: "Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side." "Caring is not an advantage." Both statements are beliefs of the Holmes brothers. However there is exceptions. To Sherlock it's Adler. To Mycroft it is Anthea. (There will be Adlock, Mythea, and a tiny bit of JohnXMary and Mollstrade) *** Sequel to a Scandal in Politics. ****
1. The Approaching Attack

**Those Beating Hearts Of Ours**

**Chapter One**

**The Approaching Attack**

**January 10th 2012, Tuesday**

Sherlock turned off the television when John stepped into the room. The ex-army doctor glanced suspiciously into the room. The ex-army doctor glanced suspiciously at the detective: it wasn't often Sherlock watched the television and when he did he was very vocal about it. There had been one point that Sherlock had been able to watch the Jeremy Kyle Show and was able to tell whether or not a paternity test would come back positive. That was why getting Sherlock into 'crap telly' was dangerous.

"What were you watching?" John asked.

"The Woman." Sherlock replied, and then he immediately regretted it. Clearly whenever she entered his thoughts all logical reasoning left. "I meant…I saw The Woman was on the tele and I switched off."

John frowned his eyebrows and walked over to his laptop. He wouldn't comment. In fact John made it a rule in his head not to comment about her. Irene Adler was clearly a touchy subject for Sherlock. She was the one woman, possibly one of the few people who had ever outwitted him. But there was something more to it than that. John had often expected Sherlock to be annoyed by people who scored against Sherlock, but even before she won the game; Sherlock had said she was nice.

Sometimes, John would hear Irene Adler on the radio, sometimes if Sherlock felt depressed he'd listen to her albums that he took from John's collection and sometimes he'd play the tune on his violin that the army doctor was convinced was for her. It was a beautiful but sad waltz. Not something John would expect from the sociopath.

Then again, becoming enamoured with someone wasn't something John suspected.

"Yoo-hoo." Mrs Hudson sang as she stepped into the living room, with shopping bags in her hands. "I did your shopping, Sherlock. You needed new milk. I really wish you wouldn't use it to grow bacteria."

John drew Sherlock a look and the detective just shrugged.

* * *

Anthea sat in the conference room next to Mycroft as she monitored the recording of the meeting on the sound recorder. She took brief notes here and there in shorthand. Shorthand was not something she'd learned to do to become a PA. It was something she learned when she'd been an agent for MI5. Someone had to give up their position to have a healthy relationship that didn't involve the other half being away for weeks without much word or sight of the other. Anthea was not going to put that on Mycroft so she took what was a small sacrifice to be with him. Sometimes she did miss field work. But her opinions were always held in high regard to the eldest Holmes brother. She was valuable, both as his wife and as his PA. She was somewhat an advisor, the one person he could confide in and trust in the government. That meant more than going after terrorists and corrupt MPs. In many ways she was honoured. Of all the women Mycroft could have chosen; he let her in. Perhaps it was because she saved him.

_Anthea's boot clicked against the concrete floor and she winced. Wrong footwear. It was a shame that she didn't have time to change. She _**_was _**_in a hurry after all. She stepped up the locked and looked inside to find Mycroft sitting in a chair, a gun raised to his head. She didn't know it, but he was waiting on his brother who wasn't going to come. Drugged with opium, Sherlock was at the time. Mycroft had been so sure that Sherlock would return the favour for all the times that he'd saved him, Mycroft had been wrong. Sherlock didn't even know what day of the week it was, never mind that he was missing._

_Anthea didn't know exactly who he was. She just knew he was in trouble. She climbed to the open grating above, via the ladder next to her and stood over the fencing. That was when she pulled the trigger. Two times, for two targets. _

_His eyes looked up to her in shock as she disappeared off across the walkway. She was there on a mission, not to save Mycroft Holmes. Yet she'd done that anyway._

He had come looking for her, every now and then for a case here and there, and then suddenly they ended up having dinner together, and eventually dinner led to more dinner, which lead to a steady relationship and then marriage.

"Anthea." Mycroft uttered when the meeting was over. He tried not to smile in amusement at the fact she she'd disappeared into a world of her own.

She snapped into reality and realised it was just him and her sitting down. The prime minister was on a call in the corner. "Are we ready to leave?" he inquired, and she began to collect everything.

"Yes." she replied, feeling annoyed at herself. She was a terrible PA. A _really _terrible PA. The feeling of guilt and despondency was written over her face and Mycroft did everyone he could not to put a hand on her shoulder.

It was only when they got into the elevator that he did. "Anthea. You do this every time. Do you expect my response to it to be any different? It doesn't matter than you weren't paying attention. You were designed to carry out the orders of politicians. Not to listen to them come up with orders."

"How many times will I let you down though?" Anthea replied. "Before you realise you made a mistake."

"Such self doubt, my dear. I wish you wouldn't let it invade into your mind." he replied, sincerely. "Besides I must ask you that you keep an eye on things while I accompany the prime Minister to Washington DC for this…" He grimaced. "thing."

Anthea glanced at him and smirked. "You mean the international festival being held in DC which is raising money to put towards human rights charities?"

"It's a thing where a bunch of inspiration, wealthy and famous people gather and flaunt their so called skills." Mycroft replied as the doors to the elevator opened and they stepped outside. "Then others in the audience have to suffer."

"They do that for tickets. The money raised with the tickets is given to the charities that support the cause." Anthea explained.

"Yes." Mycroft replied, before shivering. "The horror."

Anthea chuckled and Mycroft glanced at her, a smile forming on his face. He'd made her smile, and laugh.

"So the prime minister has asked you to be his date then?" Anthea teased. "Watch out Myky. Man killer."

Mycroft grimaced again. "Do I have to remind you that my name is Mycroft. Not Myky."

"Well my name isn't Anthea and you call me that."

Mycroft went to speak but couldn't. How could one argue with that?

"Let's get lunch before you have to hop on a plane to the land of the president's big white house." commented Anthea.

* * *

Admiral James Ford picked up the phone that was ringing on his beside table. He had high hopes that the ringtone had not awoken his daughter. "Hello." he answered. His eyes widened as he listed to the conversation on the other end. "I will be be in right away."

He ended the call and got out of bed.

Mycroft was about to board the plane with the prime minister when his phone rang. "Hello." he greeted Anthea. "I'm just getting on the plane right now."

"You might want to reconsider. There's been a break in at the Pentagon and they're requesting you. Partialy because they're worried about the latest sealed and classified business you've been doing with them. Mostly because of your connection to a certain…"

"Detective." Mycroft finished.

"Recommended by Admiral James Ford."

"Hmmn. Will you take Sherlock to Washington DC for me? I can't possibly leave the prime minister now. I'm leaving socialising with our cousins to you my dear. Do you think that you can persuade my brother, keep him in check and maintain a good relationship with our…." He grimaced. "friends at the Pentagon?"

"If you have to ask yourself that question, I'm filing for a divorce."

Mycroft chuckled. "Take John if you have to but get him to DC and take care Anthea."

When he got off of the phone, he felt a underlying sensation that he was missing the bigger picture. He couldn't quite place it.

His thoughts jumped back to Anthea as she got onto the plane. He hoped that Sherlock didn't prove to be too much trouble.


	2. The Danger Getting Closer

**Those Beating Hearts of Ours**

**Chapter Two**

**The Danger Getting Closer**

Sherlock stepped into Admiral Frederick Ford's office, Anthea and John with him. The two men sat down on the chairs in front of the desk and Anthea stood behind them both, glancing around the room and then at the the Admiral.

"If I am to be frank, I wouldn't normally pull in some squint…" began Ford. His terminology clearly caused Sherlock a mental collapse.

Anthea leaned over him and whispered. "Consult."

She then stepped back and clasped her hands behind her back. "However Mr Holmes, your brother is a very intelligent man. As is your reputation. Most of it any way." He glanced at Sherlock to the point the youngest of the Holmes brothers felt at threat. Perhaps it was that old marine stare. "Someone broke into my office and since I'm running three operations, two of which are black ops and one of which is in alliance with the United Kingdom…" Sherlock scoffed and the admiral drew him a look. John looked at Sherlock amused. "I am naturally concerned that someone was trying to find out information."

Sherlock stood up and began to examine the office. "How did you know someone broke in?" Sherlock asked Ford.

"I was called when the silent alarm went off. Whoever stepped into my office, used a key card. What they didn't know is that I have a secondary security device which requires me to scan it in twice. Scanning it once opens the door but sets off an alarm."

"What do you keep in your office?" Sherlock asked the admiral. "in general. Don't worry you don't have to spill the United States Marine thing's whatever. I just need a general idea."

"Nothing too important. The odd file on security checks. However if they had my keycard…"

"And you know it was your keycard because?" Sherlock asked him.

"It comes up on the computer and because I found it lying on the floor when I came here." responded Ford.

"What happened to the camera footage? Was it nicked?"

"Beg your pardon?" Ford replied.

"Stolen, sir." Anthea said to him, before glancing over to Sherlock and drawing him a look to be more polite.

"Yes. The hallway footage and my office. That was it though."

"Really? Where do you keep your top secret stuff? In the hallway? Surely not in your office though. I doubt that even if the intruder was looking for one of your big missions to save the world that he would have spent his entire time in here. Sounds to me like he came in here and that was that. Perhaps fiddling around with a security check."

Sherlock glanced at the pile on the admiral's desk. "Dust pattern has been broken. No new fresh finger prints. All consistent with the size of your hands and fingers. Tell me something else about you. Why would you be targeted admiral? Why your office of all people's, aside from the fairy tale adventures?"

"They're not fairy tale adventures Mr Holmes! They are men and women on the line! Risking their lives to defend their country! It's anything but a darn fairy tale!"

The admiral looked at his watch and sighed. "I've not got time for this. I'm running late already." he remarked.

"Late?" John inquired.

"The festival." Ford replied before opening his drawer and then closing it, to open the drawer below and then closing that too.

"Lost something?" Sherlock inquired.

"My tickets to the show. They are back stage and everything."

"Did the president give you them?" Anthea asked him, as far as she could tell it was a limited amount of politicians attending.

"No my daughter did."

"Is it common to get those sort of passes?" Sherlock asked.

"All sold back out six months ago." Ford replied. "No one on this entire side of the entire Pentagon has them except me. That's on civilian purposes. The rest are all given to the one's who suck the President's ass."

"Here I thought you were patriotic." Anthea commented.

"To my men and women. Not to those who think the Be all and End all is someone who retires and let's someone else take over his job to send my people on suicide missions."

"Just how much access do those passes give?" Sherlock asked.

"Everywhere basically. Access all doors. My daughter got me them as I said."

"Sherlock. There the only things reported missing so far." Anthea said to him. "Someone's went to a lot of trouble. What does that tell us?"

"Yes, Mcyroft. Criminal intent. Why there though?" Sherlock replied.

Anthea blinked and drew him a look. Her name wasn't Mycroft.

"Hundreds of people, including the President of the United States. The Chief of Naval Operations." Ford inputted.

"The Prime Minister and the most powerful man in Britain." Anthea's voice said, breaking when she mentioned Mycroft.

"Tons of loved stars." John commented.

"Sounds like someone wants to either desperately get to that festival or perhaps…they're making a statement. Terrorist attack?" Sherlock replied. His face fell suddenly.

"It doesn't matter. We have to get Mycroft…I mean Mr Holmes and the prime minister out of there. And of course The president. I don't care how slight the possibility is. We need to move."

"We know one thing." Sherlock stated as he turned to Ford. "He's using your card!"

Sherlock walked over to the admiral. "This person is impersonating you. This person had to know that you would have that pass. Who did you tell that you had that pass. Who knew?"

"My daughter wanted me to keep it to myself as much as possible. I only told one person other than myself and her."

"Who!?" Anthea asked before Sherlock could. Screw keeping appearances up with the cousins. Mycroft's life was in danger. Possibly.

_Stop it! You're not his PA. You're not his wife. You're Agent C. Jones." _

She shook herself.

"Lieutenant Nickel." replied Ford.

Anthea walked out of the office her phone in hand as she called Mycroft. While she did that Ford picked up his phone.

"Everyone's calling on security Sherlock. What are we doing?"

Sherlock's face fell. "The Woman."

"What about her…." John realised. "She's at the festival!"

* * *

"Hello, Miss Adler." a voice said to Irene as she did her vocal warmups, making her jump. She turned around to see Mycroft Holmes.

"Do I know you?" Irene asked him.

"Mycroft Holmes."

Irene blinked and immediately walked over and extended her hand. "Hello." she greeted him. He shook her hand, hesitantly.

"Do visit my brother before he leaves for London. I think he'd very much like to see you again."

At that moment both Mycroft and Irene Adler's phones went off. Mycroft's ringing. He left the room to answer the call from Anthea as Irene checked her text message.

**Get out of there ASAP**

She put her phone in her pocket and stepped out to the hall to see Mycroft end the call on his own phone.

"I'm sorry Miss Adler I have to go. I strongly suggest you do too." Mycroft said to her, quietly before walking away.

* * *

"President was running late. Him and the chief did not get there yet." Admiral Ford said to another marine, standing beside him. Ford looked up at Sherlock. "I need you out of here now. Thank you for your help Mr Holmes. I will make sure that it's noted."

"As…" Anthea began.

"Listen. Your boss will be fine. We'll get him out. Let us do our jobs! I know what loyalty feels like. It can hurt too." Ford said, trying to be firm but sympathetic. "We'll do our best. You're on our territory now."

"I've got news now, Admiral Ford." began one of the marines beside the admiral as he touched his earpiece. He swallowed.

"What happened?" Ford, Sherlock and Anthea asked at the same time.

"A…bomb did."

Ford, Sherlock and Anthea both felt sick, their hearts wrenching and their stomachs churning as they swallowed.


	3. Mess Like Residue

**Those Beating Hearts of Ours**

**Chapter Three**

**Mess Like Residue**

Anthea made her way past the authorities who had immediately arrived at the scene. She had not waited for Sherlock, or John. She had a job to do. Nothing else mattered. All that mattered was Mycroft. However, she hit a wall when a security guard approached her.

"Ma'am you need to step back." he told her firmly. She glanced at him, wondering what way to approach the situation. To hell with that: there was no time. She grabbed his shoulder and knocked him in the abdomen, taking his gun off of him.

"I worry for the safety of the people you guard." she commented, dryly. "You would not make it into MI5 that's for sure. Now just sit there, in pain and shut the hell up."

She walked into the building, which was barely standing. Parts of the roof had collapsed, support beams and lights with it. Needless to say that theatre was no longer in business until repaired. The bomb had been activated early. Why else would it go off when the President hadn't even turned up. Wasn't he the target? What was the point? Was it even political? Something had gone wrong. She was guessing that much.

* * *

Mycroft's head ache and it was only when he touched it, did he realise that he was bleeding. How bad was the wound? At that moment he couldn't answer that question. There was no mirror to examine it. The blood loss seemed superficial.

He sat up, his body aching. He looked around for his phone. Where the hell was his phone?

A voice spoke, interrupting that search. It was cold, mocking, and the accent sounded Pennsylvanian. "Even when the prime minister went home, and the Chief of Naval Operations didn't either. I still find one of the most powerful and influential political spectres in the world, still here."

Mycroft stood up, and blinked. It was getting difficult to concentrate. "What is that you gain? Politically? By killing the prime minister and me and the Chief of Naval Operations."

"You may be the most powerful man in Britain with unlimited access to everything. There is people over the world, just waiting on the right man to die to replace him."

"Promotion. What for?" he asked, letting out grunt from the pain in his shoulder. He felt it. It seemed dislocated.

"Unlimited access to everything of course."

"Nice story." a familiar voice to Mycroft said sharply. He felt a sense of relief and safety rush over him. Then he scolded himself. The man in front of him had a gun. "We will sure enjoy torturing out the rest of it."

Mycroft watched the man in front of him turn around and approach Anthea, causing Mycroft stomach to sicken as he walked over to her, his gun in his hand.

"You must be Lieutenant Nickel." she replied. He grabbed her arm.

"Listen…" he began.

"I will listen to you when you're strapped to a chair and begging for us to stop inflicting pain upon you, until then have a sleep."

She took her own gun out from the waistband of her skirt and hit him over the head with it. For good measure she stomped on him with her heels and then she sighed and relaxed her shoulders putting the gun back into the waistband of her skirt.

Her eyes examined Mycroft's condition from where she was standing. "You do realise that you won't be the one torturing him." he reminded her, putting a downer on her day.

"Do I still get front seats to view?" she replied, with a smile.

"You drive a hard bargain." he replied. "Of course."

She ran over and threw her arms around him. "I'm so glad you're okay."

He kissed the top of her head and held her tightly. "I'm only alright because you turned up for me as always."

"Mycroft!" a voice shouted and Mycroft looked to see his brother running. Anthea went to move but Mycroft continued to hold her. "Anthea I told you to…"

Sherlock's eyebrows formed a movement of puzzlement. He glanced at the unconscious body and then at Anthea and Mycroft.  
"Mummy will be pleased. You found yourself a goldfish." Sherlock commented. "Are you alright?"

"Are you concerned?" Mycroft asked.

"Well put it this way." Sherlock replied before kneeling down to Lieutenant Nicke. "If you died, I'd lose a valuable asset."

"As always Sherlock. You have your priorities." Mycroft replied and Sherlock laughed. "Irene Adler was still here when I was on my way out. And while we're chatting, Anthea is not a goldfish."

Sherlock drew his brother a look before walking on. "Whatever."

"Where are you going?" Mycroft asked his brother. Who didn't seem to answer.

Anthea pulled away. "Will he tell anyone?" she asked.

"I don't think so." Mycroft replied, quietly.

* * *

Everyone reacts to shock in different ways. When the body goes into shock it produces various hormones including adrenaline. All to stop the bodies organs from failing and shutting down. People sometimes don't react emotionally to a situation until after the stimuli of the shock; the incident which caused your body to kick in its flight or fight response.

Irene wasn't reacting to anything at all. Her wrist was in pain, one of the lights had fallen on to of it. As if that couldn't get any worse, a support beam had landed on top of her abdomen, holding her in place. She wouldn't have been able to move anyway. Shock. Everyone reacts to it differently.

"Irene." a voice so distant called out to her. "It's me honey are you awake?"

She heard another voice. "Admiral Ford." another voice addressed the first speaker. "Is this your daughter?"

"Yes Mr Holmes. Who do you think recommended you to me."

"Sherlock. I can't…Oh." another voice said.

* * *

"I can't find my phone." Mycroft complained as Anthea tried to pull him away to get out and to an ambulance. He needed medical treatment. At that moment in time though she blinked and lifted it out of his suit jacket pocket. Seeing the pointed look she was drawing him made him sigh. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine until you see a doctor and that wound needed sutured."

"Anthea." Mycroft uttered. He was about to continue with his following statement but she put her hands on her shoulders and her face became stern and less compassionate.

"Mycroft Holmes. I'm done asking you nicely. I'm telling you now! Either you go to hospital or I'll be cross with you."

He sighed again. There were very few people in the world that he was frightened to cross. However Anthea Holmes was one of them.

"Are you sure that Nickel is placed in our custody."

"I'm sure. The lads that came…I knew from back in MI5 days. Owe me a favour."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "How did you know them?"

Anthea let out a frustrated whine. "Cousin agencies. That sort of thing. Move it! You're stalling!"

"Fine." he muttered. "Don't tell my mother that I was in hospital. You know how she fusses."

"OK."

She held his arm as she led him once again out of the theatre.

"Where did you get the gun exactly?" Mycroft asked her.

"I took the front door approach." Anthea replied. "Don't worry it's all sorted."

She shot him a reassuring smile.

* * *

John lifted Irene's shirt up to examine her abdomen. "Severe bruising. Swelling. We need to get her to hospital. She needs surgery."

"Why? What's the matter with her?" Ford asked.

"Possibly internal bleeding. They won't know until they do a CT."

Sherlock moved over and lifted her up. "Irene can you hear me?" Ford asked.

"She can hear you. She's in shock." Sherlock stated. "John come on!"

"Sherlock you can't just move her. She could have fractures or…"

"If we don't she's going to die!" Sherlock replied, shouting. "I'm not going to let that happen. Now _doctor_ let's save her!"

Ford drew Sherlock a look and then nodded to John.


	4. Awaiting Something

A/N - Just want to thank anyone who has reviwed, alerted and/or subscribe. I appreciate it very much!

Tiny bit of Mollstrade in this chapter. Sorry if it's a bit rubbish.

* * *

**Those Beating Hearts of Ours**

**Chapter Four**

**Awaiting Something**

"I knew that one day I was going to discover I had an underlying aneurysm. Now I have a ruptured one in my forehead." complained Mycroft as he massaged his temples. "One bump was all it took."

Anthea sat down in the chair beside Mycroft's hospital bed. "Perhaps this is a sign you should take more holidays and give me more work."

"Thank you for the sentiment but no." Mycroft replied, quietly. "When is the neurosurgeon getting here to make to my imminent doom."

She wanted to snap at him. Tell him off for saying that to her. But then he'd go into surgery knowing that she was worried.

"Shame your doctor wasn't Patrick Dempsey." she muttered.

"Is he a good surgeon?" Mycroft asked with a sigh.

"Actor. He played one of the hot doctors on Grey's Anatomy. He was a neurosurgeon."

"One of them?" Mycroft asked, grimacing. "When do you have time to watch television."

"I don't watch television. I just saw him on the internet. Read up about him."

"You don't need to be worried about me, Anthea."

"Who said that I was worried?"

"You acting like you're not. I'll be fine."

"Hello. Anthea. Mycroft." Sherlock's voice said suddenly. Anthea looked up to see him in the door way. "Couldn't give us a minute could you?"

"Sure." Anthea replied before leaving the room.

Sherlock sat down in the chair that Anthea had been sitting on and began to fiddle with Mycroft's blood pressure monitor.

"Sherlock. That isn't a toy." Mycroft scolded.

"Please don't die. As I said you're a valuable asset."

"Thank you, Sherlock." Mycroft replied, rolling his eyes.

"Also. Don't do what Redbeard did to me."

"That's isn't going to happen!" Mycroft told him firmly. "Look after Anthea while I'm in surgery."

"I'll think about it." Sherlock replied before standing up, and making his way to the door. "Good luck in battle."

* * *

Anthea sat in the waiting room, head head in her hands as she tried not to let any tears leave those tear ducts of hers. An arm wrapped around her suddenly. "It's Mycroft. He'll be fine." Sherlock's voice said. "He promised me that he'd be okay."

"An aneurysm…I should have know he had one and now one small blow and it's exploded."

"Anthea. It's repairable. Minimally invasive. Focus on that." Sherlock told her.

"You care about him too, don't you?" Anthea asked Sherlock.

"Let's focus on you." Sherlock replied, before rubbing her shoulder. "So umm…Mycroft's going to be okay and you're going to be okay. And I'm sorry I called you a gold fish. You're more like a dolphin."

She burst into laughter. "Oh, Sherlock. The two of you. You're both as bad as each other. Mycroft's got a power complex probably because his mother always bossed him about and he never got away with anything. You've got a praise complex which means you need to be told how brilliant and how useful and needed you are. Probably because…."

"We aren't talking about me, Anthea." Sherlock said firmly.

"It's making me feel better." she admitted. "The sibling rivalry between the two of you…it's very lovely and enjoyable to watch."

"Domestic life at the Government not that entertaining?"

She shrugged and stood up. "I'm going to get some coffee. Do you want some, Sherlock?"

"Black with two sugars pleased."

Sherlock held up some US currency. "You'll need this." He smiled.

She took the money from him. "Don't worry I won't tell Mycroft you were so worried you became nice."

Sherlock drew her a look as she walked away.

"So you're not not nice usually?" Ford asked and Sherlock looked over to him. He'd forgotten he was there. "You tried to steal from my daughter. I want to know why."

"Didn't she tell you? She seems to have told you enough about me." Sherlock replied, calmly.

"She didn't tell me that much about you actually. The Woman. She isn't mentioned by name under that blog of your friends but I know it's her. She showed me your website and I naturally found it. Why did you try to steal her camera phone?"

"Because I was employed to."

"By whom?"

"One of those law things. I really can't discuss it." Sherlock replied, quietly.

"You're not just here for your brother are you?"

"I don't understand." Sherlock replied, blinking.

"I did not fail to notice that you've been pining after her."

Sherlock sighed. "I have not been pining after her! Why does everyone say that I've been pining after her?!" He folded his arms and slumped into the chair.

"Sit up straight." Ford commanded him and Sherlock drew him a look and shrugged.

"What for?" he asked.

"You're in a hospital."

"Very observant." Sherlock remarked.

There was footsteps on the floor. Sherlock looked up to see John, who sat down next to Sherlock. "Mycroft is out of surgery. It went well and his responses are very promising. They'll take him for another CT once he's come around. Where's Anthea?"

"She's had to make a phone call. Life as the PA of the British Government is always demanding of one's time." Sherlock lied before standing up and looking at Ford as he put his hands in his pockets. "Well do send my regards onto The Woman…I mean…Miss Adler."

"Stay away from her." Ford told him.

"Are you telling me what to do?" Sherlock asked him. "My brother's the British Government and not even he can order me about. I doubt you'll be successful."

"She's very beautiful. I can tell what you're game is."

Sherlock chuckled. "If that is all you think that makes your daughter attractive you really aren't that clever are you."

Ford grabbed Sherlock by the lapelles of his coat. "Umm. Not here." John said, separating them. "We are in a hospital. That is full of sick people and you're going to have this fight."

"Not my fault he's stupid."

Ford launched himself at Sherlock again. "Hey! Back off!" Anthea's voice said firmly. "You lay one more finger on him Admiral Ford and I will make sure that you receive a formal complaint! After all no one knows yet that it was your passes that let Nickel into the theatre."

He let go of Sherlock who straightened himself. Anthea looked at him. "Mycroft's out of surgery." John informed her as she handed Sherlock his coffee.

"Then why are we standing here having a cat fight?" Anthea asked Ford and Sherlock. "Grow up. The both of you."

She grabbed Sherlock's arm and began to manoeuvre him towards to the elevator, John following them. There's a reason why Mycroft's rule number one when it comes to Anthea is to refrain from pissing her off. Anthea was often calm, detached from the world, and very relaxed, somewhat languid but when needed to be, fierce she got on straight away and held nothing back. She was hell in high heels.

* * *

"How are you feeling." Anthea asked Mycroft.

"Like I'm about to call a helicopter to take me to the airport. But then I remembered I was here in the United States. There's a reason that I have two offices to work from and both in my own country where I have all my power." he replied, rubbing his head. "How long is the post operational recovery?"

"A week. Just to keep an eye on you. Don't worry. I will be conducting your meeting the with the prime minister via video conference call. I already know what you're going to say to him."

"I didn't tell you yet." he replied.

"I know you." she replied, before scrolling down her organiser. "I've placed Ford under surveillance since he tried to kill your brother. Well he didn't try, he was just going to severely harm him but I think he might at some point."

"Ah yes. Good. You do _know _me."

"Always the tone of surprise." she replied, with a smile and the shake of her head. "Now as for your mother usually calling you once a week, I've automatically had them re-route the call to me. I'll just explain to her you're in meetings. Although I feel bad about lying to my mother in law who I've never even spoken to. Bad first impressions that one but never mind."

"And Sherlock? Is he alright?"

"He was worried about you. He was even nicer to me. Called me a dolphin."

"I suppose that's a compliment." he remarked.

"Coming from him it is. So I'm honoured."

"Where is he now?" Mycroft asked.

"Dr Watson is booking a hotel and I don't know where Sherlock is but I can presumably guess that he's waiting on Admiral Ford leaving Irene Adler's bedside."

"I can't believe _I _missed that they were related." Mycroft replied with a sigh.

"He's starting to wonder who sent Sherlock to steal the camera phone. So I'm glad he's on surveillance."

Mycroft let out a sigh. "Sherlock is always getting himself into such trouble."

"Actually you've got yourself into trouble with Ford too. If he finds out it was you that sent Sherlock to recover that camera phone then it could jeopardise our mission in Iraq."

"A fatal error on my part. Don't remind me." Mycroft replied with a sigh. "What do you suggest that we do?"

"_We _aren't going to do anything. _I'm _going to go and do my job and yours. And you Mycroft Holmes are going to rest and recover. And if you don't…I will call your mother."

Mycroft sighed.

* * *

Irene had been awake for one hour listening to her father go on about how she should have been keeping up her self defines training. "And that was soooo going to help against a bomb. What does it matter, dad? It's over with and I'm fine. Now I really want to go and sit down in the armchair by the window because I can peacefully look out to the road and imagine running away."

"We need to talk about Sherlock Holmes."

"Did he help you alright?" Irene asked as she climbed out, much to protesting eye roll of her father who held his arms out to stop her moving. In the end he just decided on helping her into her chair with a sigh. "You didn't answer me."

"He's a rude, obnoxious, disrespectful runt. Clearly went to public school. Thinks he's better than everyone else."

"The reason he thinks he's better than everyone else is because he's clever. Imagine if you were clever." Her father shot her a look and she chuckled. "Sorry. As clever as he is. People around you tend to become…like plankton. You don't mean to be that way, it's just a comparison. He's the President and we're all petty officers in the Navy."

"He tired to steal your camera phone. Why are you defending him?"

"Why are you attacking him?" Irene asked in return, drawing him a look.

"Why did he try to steal your camera phone?" repeated Ford.

"Because he was employed to."

"You sound just like him."

"You've spoken to Sherlock then? He's a consulting detective. They consult him. He was just doing his job."

"Why?"

She sighed. "I had a boyfriend that you didn't know about."

"And why didn't I know about him?"

"Because you attack and question my not boyfriends. How would you attack my current boyfriends. Anyway it was mistake to trust him."

"I knew that was coming."

Irene let out a frustrated sigh and looked out of the window. "I don't want to talk about this." She rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and put her head in her fist. "Sherlock helped me in the end. He stopped my ex from sending people after to me to find my camera phone."

"Why was he -"

"I was telling you about Sherlock like you asked. I'm not talking to you about the rest." Irene replied, quietly.

"I'll send my housekeeper to go and get your things from your hotel room." Ford replied. "I can keep an eye on you now."

"No. You can't." Irene replied to him firmly. "I love that you care enough about me to smother me but could you not? I'm not the smothering or to be smothered type. Sometimes I feel as though you suffocate me. But because I'm touched by the sentiment behind it I don't feel like saying to you but now…now…I almost got exploded by a bomb and you're either treating me like some petty officer or you're treating me like I'm ten years of age. Well I'm not."

"Can I at least bring your clothes here or is that smothering?" Ford replied.

"I'm fine." Irene replied. "I've got my PA taking care of it."

"I thought she resigned." Ford replied.

"I got a new one."

"Did she pass security checks?"

"It's a man." Irene Adler replied.

"I want his name."

"I don't have a PA. I was testing. You're doing the smothering thing again. You see what I mean? It's compulsive with you. You protect me more than you protect the President."

"Because a President can be replaced. You cannot."

He put his hand on her shoulder. "Your mother died when you were young. I don't want you to die either."

"Don't we all die eventually?"

He sighed. "I'll be back later. Perhaps you'll be in a better mood."

"I'm sorry. I'm just…"

"It's alright. I know."

When Ford left Irene sighed and looked out of the window.

* * *

Greg Lestrade wandered into the Pathologists lab at Saint Barts hospital. He looked around and then heard a gasp. He turned around to see Molly, just finishing up to leave. "Greg. Umm...Hi."

"Sorry Molly. Just looking for Sherlock. I am bit worried. He's not answering his calls and Mrs Hudson said that he wasn't there. She came back from the shops and none of the boys were in. You seen them?"

"Sorry, no. That's a bit worrying. Sherlock usually answers you. Is it for a case?"'Molly asked him.

"Was just a follow up." he replied.

"Oh well, if I see them I will let you know." Molly replied.

There was a moment of silence and Lestrade had to keep telling himself to stop himself from saying what he wanted to say to her. "Listen Molly." And he was saying it. "Do you fancy going for a drink or something?"

Molly swallowed. Lestrade was asking her to have a drink with him? Why? Was is it hanging out or a date? "Well...I...umm...like a date?"

"If you want...yeah." he replied, nervously. "I mean I understand..."

"Actually Greg; I would love to have a drink with you." Molly replied. "Or we could watch some tele or something."

"Whatever." he replied, grinning.

"Some take out?"

"Sure."

"Great."

It was only after a while that they both began to breathe. "So how was your day?" he asked, holding the door open for her.

"Oh you know. The usual. Mostly old people. How was yours? Any new cases?" she asked as she made her way out: he followed her.

"Couple of burglaries." he replied.

"Waste of your talent." Molly replied, as they took the staircase.

"You think?" asked Lestrade.

"I could be wrong but yeah." she joked. "Did you hear about the bombing in DC yesterday?"

"Yeah. Shocking. What I don't get is that the president hadn't turned up when the bomb went off. You'd think they would have waited."

"See what I mean you're not half bad." Molly said, smirking at him.

"You should see me when I am good." he replied.

"Take me to one of your crime scenes then."

Lestrade smiled and took her hand in his as they left the building into the car park.

* * *

Irene yawned as she stared at the door. Suddenly a man in a lab coat came in, chart in his hand. He turned around and looked at Irene in the chair and she grinned as he threw his glasses and stethoscope onto the bed. "You know the big problem with a disguise Mr Holmes? No matter how hard you try, it's always a self portrait."

"You think I am a doctor?" he asked, not understanding.

"I think you're clinical, specific, and deductive while constantly looking for cases, only you're a crime detective not the diagnosing medicine man who tells you that you have pneumonia."

"What about when I was the vicar with the bleeding face?" he asked as he sat down on the window ledge to look right into her eyes.

"Damaged. Delusional, and believing of a higher power. Yourself."

"How are you feeling?" he asked her.

"Bored." she replied. "Worried. Frustrated."

"Why are you frustrated?" he asked.

"I lay there and did nothing. I just couldn't respond to anything. It was like I was drugged."

"Even if you weren't in shock, you wouldn't have been able to move with all the bleeding internally and the giant beam on top of you. It saved your life, and kept you relaxed."

"You carried me out. I didn't think you'd be that strong."

"I am capable." Sherlock remarked, with a small smile.

"Oh don't worry clever cloggs, most women think brainy is the new sexy. You're masculine imagine has not been degraded."

Sherlock smiled and brushed her hair back.

She tilted her head and smiled. "You know I was wondering if you could do something for me? Could you please get me an AMA form. I want to sign out. I need to get to London. I live there now."

"No. You need to stay here in hospital. The whole point is that you get better."

"You came looking for me Sherlock Holmes: why?"

"Wait here."

He walked outside and grabbed a wheelchair before bringing it in and helping her into it. "Where are we going?"

"Just a little adventure to pass the time."

* * *

"Yes Mrs Holmes, they really don't let him have much of a break but then again you must remember that you have a hard working son." Anthea said to Mycroft and Sherlock's mother. "Could I pass on a message?"

"Oh nothing that can't wait. Do remind him to tell Sherlock to call me. Never returns any of my calls. Always was isolating himself, him and his dog. Mycroft was the same except when he needed you for something, they were both as bad as each other. If Sherlock did one thing Mycroft would and if Mycroft did something Sherlock would."

"Mostly what causes their bickering." Anthea muttered. "Well I will be sure to pass on the message."

The call ended and Anthea looked at Mycroft. "I feel like a bad daughter in law." she said, looking at him with a sad face.

"At least you're a good wife." he remarked.

"Not funny." she told him.

"It wasn't meant to be funny."

She drew him a look and then shook her head and smiled.


	5. The Inquisitive Pathologist

a/n This chapter is entirely Mollstrade. :) Just so you know.

**Those Beating Hearts of Ours **

**Chapter Five **

**The Inquisitive Pathologist **

January 31st, Friday 

Molly sighed as she put away the equipment around her. Good lab practice and good health and safety. That was what she wanted her lab to have. She was so busy that she didn't hear the door open and close. She just heard the voice of the person who did.

"You look busy. Shall I come back later?"

She smiled and looked around, surprised. "Greg. You're early I thought you had a meeting with the chief superintendent?"

"Some family emergency. Thought I'd stop by and surprise you. Get some quiet time before tomorrow. You were really good with the kids last week."

"Oh it was no problem. I'm just cleaning up right now. You don't mind waiting a bit, do you?" Molly replied, looking around.

He grinned at her and it made her smile widely. She was so happy around him. He was so happy around her.

"Of course I don't. You know what I might give you a hand."

"Finally you've learned your place." she replied, jokingly. "So how was work today any interesting new cases?" She watched Greg pick up a tray of measuring cylinders and look around hopelessly to place them somewhere, she pointed to a cupboard.

"Well…" He opened them up and put them in a cupboard. "There was a couple of burglaries but they aren't really my division." He closed the door and looked to Molly.

"So what exactly is your division then?" Molly asked.

"Well that is really difficult to explain. I can show you though."

"Oh?" she asked, as he walked closer to her. "Show away."

He cupped her hands in his face and then he kissed her. She chuckled when he pulled away and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Quiet night doesn't mean you're going to be watching the football, right?"

"It's just the highlights and they're recording."

"Just the highlights? What is it with people having to watch the highlights when they've already seen them."

"Usually they're good." Greg said. "What do you want me to do next?"

She handed him a tray with paper towels. "These go over to that trolley."

The door opened and a little girl with curly blonde hair wandered in, carrying a doll. "Oh." Molly uttered. "Are you lost?"

She nodded.

"That's okay." she replied. "We'll just phone someone and you can stay here."

"Is grandpa going to die?" she asked, tears swelling in her eyes.

"Is he in hospital?" Molly asked her.

The girl nodded.

"Well that means we're going to do everything to stop that happening. He's probably really sad. So he'll be worried about you now too and that will make him more sad. So why don't we get you back to him and your parents."

"I'll come with you both." said Greg.

"That there is a policeman. So you're in really good hands." Molly assured the girl.

* * *

Molly approached the nurse's station of the emergency ward and spoke to one of the nurse's. "Doctor Hooper." one of them said. "You're a bit away from home."

"I'm just looking for Casey's parents."

"Room 200."

They made their way to the room and Casey's mother ran to her. "She got a bit lost." Greg said.

"You're not meant to go away anywhere without mummy." She looked up to Molly. "Thank you."

Molly nodded and her and Greg walked away. "Now can we have that quiet night in?" Greg asked and Molly laughed. Molly's eyes darted to another room as they walked past, where a patient was coding. That wasn't what Molly was focusing on. The teenager next to a man, who's body language was consistent with someone dying to have a fix.

"Molly." Greg uttered. "Are you alright?"

She walked over to the nurse's station without saying anything. "That patient in room 200. What's he in with?"

"Gerald Kindle. Got hit with a car. Compound fracture. Dr Bennet thinks that he was on drugs. Was still hyped up after we gave him meds."

"Any other suspicions?" Greg asked, and Molly smiled at him.

"His back pack. Kept on holding onto it and asking for it."

Molly and Greg wandered away and she whispered to him. "Molly. I can't do that." Greg said and she drew him a glance.

"That girl in there is probably on drugs too! How old is she? Eighteen? She needs help. Help her!"

"Distract." Greg told her.

"Thank you." Molly replied as she wandered into the room. As Dr Bennet called time of death Molly winced. "One for me?"

While the focus was on Molly who was talking, Lestrade took the bag and brought it out to the nurse's station before bringing it back and speaking to Molly. "Had a ticket…Just got back from Nigeria. He's probably body packing."

"My autopsy will confirm that." Molly said before looking over to the girl and her friend.

* * *

Lestrade and Molly went to get coffee from the cafeteria. "Are you going to do the autopsy?"

"I'll do it on Monday." Molly replied with a sigh. "Morgue is closed and I promised you a whole weekend."

"Listen. You could have potentially found some drug smugglers. Celebrate."

"Did we? Because that girl, the smuggler's sister is still walking out of this hospital in need of a fix. That's dangerous. There's something not right with the friend."

"No evidence. But you phone us in once you do the autopsy."

"But you're a detective for Scotland Yard. Can't you…You need me to do the autopsy?"

"There goes our quiet night in. I'll go get us some food. Good food and I'll stay with you."

"You don't have to, Greg." Molly replied sincerely. "I really don't mind. I'll be there tomorrow."

"I want to be there. I want to see you do what you're best at. I already got a glimpse of it tonight."

She smiled.

* * *

Molly walked to the elevator and met with porter who took the drug packer's body down to the morgue. She smiled at him and pressed the button for the ground ground floor so she could make her way there. "Those two grieving weirdos were looking for the morgue by the way. Told them to clear off and took them to the exit floor. Didn't leave the hospital. Thought you'd want to know."

"Do me a favour and send security to the morgue for me." Molly replied. When she reached the ground floor she ran outside and took the short way to get there by running across the road, rather than going through corridors.

When she got to the morgue she found the teenager with her friend, looking for the body. "You know it's not too late." Molly told them. "Just leave. Nothing you've done can't be forgotten."

"You think I don't know that your little boyfriend is with the old bill?"

"Actually he's better. He's from Scotland Yard and a detective." Molly replied. "Security is on its way. You need to leave if you don't want to get in trouble."

"I want my drugs. She _needs _them."

"She needs rehab." Molly replied, stepping a little closer. He pulled a gun from his back pocket and pointed it at her.

"I'm not messing around, love. Find me my drugs."

Molly walked over to the one of the trolleys and put on a surgical mask. Next, she put on gloves before picking up a scalpel and walking over to the right refrigerator, pulling out the body.

"Why are you wearing a mask?" he asked her.

"David!" the girl cried. "I can barely stand up, I'm shaking."

"Shut up!" David shouted at the girl who walked backwards.

"What's your name?" Molly asked the girl.

"Ruby." she replied, before letting out a whine. "David please."

"Shut up!" he yelled.

"Ruby turn around." Molly said to her. "I'm not cutting into your brother while you watch."

"Wait." David spoke. "Call off security."

Molly swallowed. Of course he had to remember that.

* * *

Greg wandered into the hospital with Chinese take out and was approached by one of the nurse's. "You're the detective that's friends with Molly."

"She's my girlfriend actually." Greg said proudly.

"She asked Jim the porter to call security and then called it off."

"Why would she ask for security?"

"Those two who were with our patient who died. Were looking for the morgue. Jim shooed them."

* * *

"Now let's get on with this." David said to Molly. "No more stalling."

"Are these drugs for her or someone else?" Molly inquired. "Look at what it's done to her."

The gun clicked and Molly swallowed and sigh, ready to make the cut at the abdomen when the door opened and Greg ran in. "Molly." His face fell.

David turned the gun on Greg and Molly didn't think when reacted. She was too worried that he was going to shoot him. She turned around and stabbed him in the shoulder with the scalpel making him drop the gun. She kicked it Greg's way and he picked it up.

"Police cars are on their way as well as security. Get away from her now!"

* * *

"Definitely not a quiet night." Molly said right after she'd given her statement.

"Going to have to reheat our dinner."

She turned to him. "At least I'm not being arrested."

"Thanks for that by the way." he replied. "For a minute I thought he was going to shoot me."

"That's why I did it. For the record even if you weren't my boyfriend, I'd still do it."

He hugged her and she put her arms around him. "Come on. Home time."

She smiled and nodded before taking his hand.


	6. Neonatal Discovery

A/n Very Mythea based. Big thank to all those who've favourited, followed, reviewed etc! you don't know how much it all means to me.

**Those Beating Hearts of Ours**

**Chapter Six**

**Neonatal Discovery**

Anthea stood in front of Mycroft's desk in the Diogene's club. He had been silent for a whole five minutes and she did not know what to say to get him to speak. She had told him something which had sent him into that state.

"Myky." she pleaded. "Please talk to me."

He rained silent for another minute and then tears fell down her cheeks and that snapped Mycroft out of it as she began to cry. "Anthea…" he began.

"I'm sorry." she apologised, quickly wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry. You don't like women crying. It really frightens you."

"I don't like you crying for a different reason. Anthea. What's wrong?"

"The way you were…remaining so silent I was…I thought that…I thought because now I'm just ordinary. An ordinary pregnant woman, you wouldn't want me."

"You're not ordinary, Anthea. You're very special to me. This is very…shocking news. I am still taking it in. Have you seen a doctor?"

"No. I just did several tests." she replied before sitting down and sighing.

"Oh Anthea. I wish you had someone who would make a good father."

She looked at him and saw how sad he looked. "Mycroft. What makes you think that you wouldn't be?"

"I don't know how." Mycroft said before walking over to her and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh shut up." Anthea snapped and Mycroft blinked. "Haven't you saw what you've done for your brother. If you look after our child half as well as you've done with Sherlock Holmes then you're a damn good father!"

"Oh." Mycroft uttered.

"You're so stupid." Anthea remarked. "I'm the one who doesn't know how to be a parent. My parent's left me at an orphanage. With only a blanket that had the name Anthea written on it. Then I was adopted and called Celina Jones. And then they died. I was passed through foster home and foster home. They always say that orphans make the best agents and the worst. They're either so emotionally screwed up they belong in a nut house or they're really good at being diligent went it comes to trusting people. There's the occasional ones who end up happy."

"And what category are you?" Mycroft asked quietly.

"The last two. And I'll remain that way as long as I have you."

"Anthea. It's time you met my parents." Mycroft replied to her.

* * *

Sherlock looked up at Mycroft as he walked into the living room in Baker Street. He sighed and sat down in the chair across from Sherlock's. "What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, not so pleased to see him. Mycroft was too much in shock to register it fully.

"What I'm about to tell you should remain between us and only us Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded and leaned forward. "What politician is dead now?"

"No one is dead. Anthea's pregnant." Mycroft replied and Sherlock leander back.

"Is it yours?" Sherlock asked him, skeptically.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Of course the child is mine. Sherlock some us do know how to have a relationship."

"But you?" Sherlock asked. "Really?"

"You wouldn't understand." Mycroft replied, raising his eyebrows. "Sorry if this conversation which is alluding to sex is alarming you."

"Why did you come here?" Sherlock asked him.

"Because I trust few people to know and despite our differences Sherlock I trust you and I want you to be a part of my child's life. You're my family."

Sherlock blinked several times. "Do what makes you happy Mycroft but you also have to think about your child's safety. You're telling a sociopath here that you want them in your child's life."

"Sherlock. Despite your claims you're not a sociopath. I had you tested."

Sherlock laughed. "How far along is she?"

"Ten weeks." Mycroft replied. "I'm sending her to stay with mummy. I broke the news to her on the phone myself. She's angry at me but it passed when I brought up that my wife was having a baby. You know how she's always gone on about us having children."

"At least I'm in the clear." Sherlock commented.

There was a moment of silence. "Still…It's really your baby?" He asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh grow up."

* * *

Anthea went to go and make tea for Mycroft and his mother but Mrs Holmes made her sit back down. "You look exhausted, dear. You just stay sitting. You've already done enough for his lordship."

She drew Mycroft a look. "Again mother, I'm very sorry but-"

"Yes. Protecting the both of you, I understand but what's the point you're coming to me now! I'm hurt Myke and those feelings don't pass quickly. But I'm also very proud of you."

"My name is not Myke. It's Mycroft."

"I call him Myky." Anthea said suddenly and then looked away as she felt awkward.

Mycroft bowed his head. "How long have we been here in this house, Anthea?" Mycroft asked her.

"An hour." she replied before standing up and walking up to Mrs Holmes as Mycroft sighed.

"Feels like a week." he uttered.

"Really I can help. I don't mind." She took the kettle from Mrs Holmes who then sat down.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were in hospital as well?" she asked. "I had to hear from Mrs Hudson; Sherlock's landlady."

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"You're my boy I want to know when you're sick."

"Where is Mr Holmes?" Anthea asked Mycroft's mother.

"Oh he'll be out birdwatching dear. Shouldn't be much longer. He's dying to meet you."

Mycroft drew Anthea a pleading look and she turned around to hide her smirk of amusement. "He's awful enthusiastic about his bird watching. The other day he lost track of the time."

"Is it not cold outside?" Anthea asked, concerned as she collected the teabags from the cupboard and sorted them into cups.

"I make sure he wraps up." Mrs Holmes replied.

Mycroft whined.

* * *

"I'll be back at the weekend." Mycroft told Anthea late at night.

"Do you think you'll cope without me?"

"I will have to." he replied. "I can't have you with me. I know you're still early but it's a stressful job and sometimes you moonlight. I don't want you or my child hurt. Here you're safe. Keep in touch via text however. Sherlock will video call you if you need someone and I can't be there."

"Sherlock knows?"

"Of course he does."

"I wish I had a Sherlock. I just have a husband."

"Anthea. We're married. He's your brother too."

He pressed his lips onto her forehead. "We'll find a better set up soon. You won't be here forever. Just long enough for me to find a good security plan. Sherlock and I are working on one as we speak."

"OK. But you do know that I'm a highly trained agent, right?"

"Yes. I do. But our child isn't."

"He or she might be one day."

"No. You and I've seen what happens to agents. I forbid it. Goodnight, Anthea."

He left and she sighed. "Is that him away?" Mr Holmes asked her. "Never says when he is going. He just leaves. He's a good a son though. Works very hard."

Anthea closed the door and smiled. "You must miss him."

"Yes. But, they always come back when you least expect it. Look now."

Anthea chuckled. "Well. I'm very tired. Would you and Mrs Holmes mind terribly if went to bed?"

"Of course not. You know where your room is. If you needed anything you know where to find us and make yourself at home."

* * *

"Schooling?" Mycroft asked Sherlock. He handed him a piece of paper from a the other side of the desk. "All of these are boarding public schools in the country."

"Exactly but they all have good security in place and if they don't they can be improved. In the summer they could go to these summer camps."

Sherlock handed him another piece of paper. "I think Anthea and I would like to have our child close by."

Sherlock took the papers up and rolled them into balls before throwing them across the room and handing Mycroft another sheet. "Schools in London. All of them are surrounded by CCTV cameras. The grounds anyway."

"Excellent. That's more to my liking." he replied.

"High schools." Sherlock said before handing Mycroft another sheet. "Same condition. I only listed unisex schools since we don't the child's gender yet."

"I don't mind if it's a boy but if it's a girl then a girls only school." Mycroft said.

"Why don't you mind if it's a boy but you do if it's a girl…Is that one of those sexist things."

"If you were a father you'd understand."

"That's if you are the father and you're only just been a father for ten weeks. Three days to your knowledge." Sherlock replied.

"I am the child's father." Mycroft responded. "What about healthy diets for Anthea?"

"She should avoid seafood." Sherlock replied.

Sherlock handed him another sheet of paper.

Someone cleared their throat and they looked up to John. "John don't you have someone to date with?" Sherlock asked.

"Are you two on a case and I've not been invited?" asked the army doctor.

"This is a private family matter. Sorry John."

"We can tell him." Mycroft told Sherlock. "Just no one tell Mrs Hudson. Everything she finds out she calls my mother about."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Hudders. Can't show her a bird's nest."

"Tell me what?" John asked.

"Anthea is pregnant." Sherlock replied.

"Is it yours?" John asked and Mycroft sighed. "You actually reproduced?"

"We've been through this John." Sherlock replied. "Mycroft has a dolphin and his dolphin is pregnant. Now go away."

"Fine. I don't think I want to sit and listen to you talk about baby names. Oh did you get the post?"

"What post?" Sherlock asked.

"You had post from America. It's on the mantle."

"Thank you." Sherlock replied as she sorted through some papers. John decided to leave and go downstairs.

"Medical centres. Which are best for Anthea?" Mycroft inquired.

"Narrowed it down to three." Sherlock said before handing a post-it note.

"I need a new PA."

"I'm helping you plan your child's future. I'm not being your PA as well Mycroft."

"Shame. Could have been like old times. You, me…and your little assistant. Redbeard."

Sherlock stopped looking at Mycroft and stood up. "Tea?" he asked.

"Please."

"I'll go ask Mrs Hudson."

When Sherlock was gone Mycroft stood up and walked over to Sherlock's letter. "Oh Sherlock. You're still in contact with her."

He put the letter back in its spot and sat back down again just as his phone buzzed on the table.

**I love your parents. **

He texted back.

**As do I but they're rather tedious and have a tendency to make time slow! **

**Not with all the interesting stories I'm hearing about you! **

Mycroft sighed heavily.


	7. Cold Case

a/n - adLock chapter. Sorry if Sherly seem ooc.

**Those Beating Hearts of Ours**

**Chapter Seven**

**Cold Case**

John stepped into the living room at Baker Street to find Sherlock playing chess with Irene Adler. He looked at them for a moment and watched, the two of them not noticing that he was in the living room.

Sherlock glanced at Irene, suspicion in his eyes. "What?" she asked, using her left hand to take Sherlock's bishop with her queen.

"You're cheating." he answered her.

"No. Maybe I am just really good." Irene replied, with smile.

"Not too bad."

"Speaking for yourself?" she inquired.

He smirked and stared at her. It went on for a while to the point that John had to announce he was in the room. "Hamish!"

Irene and Sherlock looked up. "John Hamish Watson. If you were looking for baby names."

"Dr Watson. How are you?" Irene asked before standing up and giving John a hug. Sherlock drew her and John a look before announcing "it's your turn to make a move. Why don't you make it a good one?"

"I am great." John informed her, sitting on the sofa as Irene sat back down. "What brings you back to London?"

"I am trying to grasp on to whatever sanity I have left, however little." she replied with a smile. "I am moving here. Not to mention that I am seeing someone..."

"Hopefully not another Norton." Sherlock commented dryly.

"Oh god no, she's isn't anything like Norton and nor am I in a relationship with her. She's a ortho expert. She's going to get my hand better. I did have one in Seattle but she died. First time I saw her was when I broke my left wrist. And my father wonders why I hate guns."

"The recoil?" John asked.

"It's a bitch to say the least. Still took me to the shooting range. What ever happened to taking your daughter to an IHOP. Can't complain too much though, for every shooting lesson I got, I got piano lessons and singing lessons. Creativity is my thing, not destruction."

"So is music you're only creative thing?" John asked her.

"I can draw and paint. Let's just say I am an artist in every sense of the word." Irene replied. "Oh look! Checkmate!"

"You weren't even paying attention!" Sherlock replied, surprised,

"I was."

"John was talking to you." Sherlock replied, confused.

"Oh bless. You can only focus on one thing at one time. Black and white mind. Ironically the colours of chess."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. "Oh, they're auctioning off storage units at Dawson's. I just love that. They open up the unit and they auction it off, it's so they can make some money off of units that are no longer being paid for. I am gonna go."

"I will come with you." Sherlock said, standing up and grabbing her coat and putting it on her arms. "We are going down that way anyway to buy manuscript from the music shop I was telling you about. I need rosin too."

"Oh lovely, you can bid for me. I am pushover when it comes to being competitive."

Sherlock glanced at the chess set and then at her, unable to speak. "What?" she asked.

He grabbed her arm. "Come on."

"Hold up. I am coming too!" John shouted after them.

* * *

"How long is this going to take?" Sherlock asked Irene as they stepped into Dawson's. "Only I have the whole day planned out."

"Oh relax Detective McCheekbones, the day hasn't even started yet."

"Why are you bidding on second hand storage goods anyway?" John asked, before Sherlock could protest to Irene statement.

"Because I am bored." Irene replied, and that's what I do when I am bored...I spend money and to out and hang out with friends and not write music because not writing music is what makes me bored and I can't play piano efficiently and no one else can do it because they can't do it the way I do it."

"So you're shopping like Posh Spice on coke, then?" John Watson asked, Irene.

"You take coccaine?" Sherlock asked Irene.

"Shh. I am famous the papers are always looking for something to chastise me about."

"But are you?"

Irene shook her head and stepped up to a crowd who were already bidding on a unit. "Sherlock bid for me." Irene hissed.

Too late it was sold. "I don't believe that." Irene replied.

"The owner opened up the next unit. All that was in it was a freezer, hooked up to a light. "Ten pounds." Sherlock offered.

"Sherlock I don't want this one." Irene said.

"I do." Sherlock replied.

No one else was bidding on it. Sherlock removed a ten pound note from his pocket and stepped into the unit handing it to his owner. "You have this very innocent way of stumbling in to trouble, Irene Adler." he said to her. He turned to the owner as Irene looked at John who just shrugged. "How long has this been here? This unit."

"Six months. Last payment was two months ago." the owner replied.

"What is it, Sherlock?" John asked.

"Curious, why someone would have a freezer in here this long, paying for it to be here constantly, hooking it up to a light outlet, which I think is illegal, against one of those law things."

"So why would they stop paying all of a sudden?" Irene asked.

"This place is reeking of mystery, question number one, is why someone did all this anyway."

Sherlock opened up the freezer and grinned widely. "You should really stick around more often Miss Adler. Oh Merry Christmas."

He moved forward and kissed her forehead. "Thank you for bringing me."

John stepped forward and looked inside. "Oh no." John said.

Sherlock gestured to the freezer and Irene looked inside. "It's a frozen body." Irene told him. "Wow. That brings a whole new meaning to cold case."

"John go outside and call Lestrade. Let him know what's going on."

"Okay." John responded before heading out, Sherlock pulled down the shutters on the storage room and Irene glanced at him.

"Less people who know the better."

"So were they keeping a trophy?" Irene asked, looking at the body.

"Perhaps they were hiding it from being discovered?" Sherlock suggested.

"Then why did they stop paying."

"Did they stop paying or did someone stop them from paying?" Sherlock replied. "Which is what struck me as odd about this whole thing in the first place."

"So we're not going to the music shop, then?" Irene asked him.

"Oh Irene. There's something fun going on!" Sherlock replied, with a smile. "All you can think about is new rosin and…"

"The rosin was what you wanted for your violin bow."

"Oh." Sherlock uttered. "But you found me a case, so now we have more exciting things to do. Another adventure Adler. You and me. What do you say? The smartest woman I have ever met and the smartest man you have ever met. We could be great together."

Irene stepped forward so she was closer to him. She looked directly up at him and he looked down at her so their eyes met. "You know I had an aunt once. She warned me about boys like you. Breaking promises. Being charming and moving but secretly dangerous. I think that's exactly what you are."

"Is it going to be a problem?"

"You see the thing is Sherlock." She began to straighten his cost. "I always do the the things I am warned against."

Sherlock was about to speak when the shutters opened up. He sighed heavily and gritted his teeth, turning around to see Lestrade and John. "Is that Irene Adler?!" Greg asked.

Irene waved, a small smile quirking on her lips.

John watched the woman pull away from Sherlock and he blinked. "Did we interrupt something?" John inquired.

"I wasn't far away when John called." stated Greg. "Phoned the gang up. So let's see what we got."

Sherlock opened up the freezer box and Greg glanced inside. "And how did you stumble across this?"

"Unit bidding." John answered him.

"What? They actually do that?!" Greg asked, shocked.

"I am going for coffee. Would you like some, Sherlock?" Irene asked, suddenly.

"No thank you. But do get yourself something strong, your jet lag is become more vivid."

She smiled. "I will have-" John began as Irene walked out but she was already away.

"How did you end up in a storage unit bidding with Irene Adler?" Greg asked.

"Because they were on the way to the music shop." John replied, with a smile.

* * *

Sherlock follows Lestrade outside. "We won't know more until forensics gets back to us. We will try and get an ID. She needs to thaw out first."

"That could take a while." Irene said suddenly, approaching with two cups of coffee. "Or a lot of hair dryers."

She handed Sherlock a cup. "I never asked for coffee."

"I'd knew you would change your mind." replied Irene.

"My kids love you." Greg said to her. "Not even got anything for an autograph but can I have a picture with you to show them?"

"Why don't you take the picture and email it to Sherlock. I will sign it for you and-"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"You've moved on I see." Sherlock commented to Lestrade.

"Sherlock. This is an unnecessary deduction. What did we say about unnecessary deductions?" Irene asked.

"Sorry. " Sherlock apologised, before pulling Irene aside. "So glad you're here. I have a present for you."

He handed her an ID card. "Did you steal this?" Irene asked. "Sally Donovan."

"Come on. In a minute John is going to tell me who was on duty when that unit was used and you are going to talk to them. He wasn't going to comply but then I told him he'd get a signed album. Everyone's kids seem to love you."

John stepped up to them. "Wouldn't give it to the police. But we aren't police." John commented before handing Sherlock a piece of paper.

Irene clapped her hands. "Let's go interview him."

"Wait. There's some things we need to sort out. You need new clothes. And a car."

* * *

Irene parked outside the house of Gareth Canterbury's house. She was wearing a suit from Tesco, since anything else would make her seem like she had too much to be a detective for the police department. She had fake glasses on and her hair up and clasped. "Remind me why I am doing this?"

"Because you're rebellious for one and you're bored."

She got out of the car, John and Sherlock following and Irene knocked on the door. "Wasting our time. He won't remember anything." John commented.

"He might."

The door opened. "Hello. I am Sergeant Sally Donovan. This is Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. We need to speak to you." Irene greeted him with an English accent.

* * *

"I don't really remember much about that night, sorry. It's a dead shift. Boring nothing happens." Gareth said to Irene, who was sipping a cup of tea.

"Of course you do. There was no other renters that night. And it's the night shift. A freezer? At night! Being delivered. Didn't you find it strange? Sure you get the odd thrown out husband looking to ditch a snooker table because he can't take it to his friends house but a freezer? A freezer can sit outside. Even then you must have thought it strange that they didn't come back. That they only paid by sending a letter with cash."

"I don't remember. Was just two blokes."

"So two men. Why didn't you say that, before?" Irene asked. "That's important."

"So that's all you remember?" Sherlock asked, drawing Irene a funny look.

"Yes."

"Do you think if you saw one of these men you could identify them?"

"Probably, I don't know oh and they had a green van. Sort of racing green. I remember that too."

Irene handed him a card. "Call this number if you remember anything else. Don't leave town."

When they got outside Sherlock looked at her. "Don't leave town?" he asked.

"Don't you watch TV?"

"No." Sherlock replied.

"That is going to change. I know some shows that you will love."

John smiled.

* * *

Sherlock and Irene stood in the forensic lab's morgue where Anderson pulled the sheet down on the woman's body. "No ID yet but I've sent her finger prints to get run. Could take a while. There's a waiting list."

"Why don't you ever have ATHUS?" Irene asked them.

Lestrade frowned his eyebrows, Anderson stared at her and Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You need to stop watching TV!" Sherlock stated.

"No. There's a database called ATHUS. I'm on it. I got lost when I was six in a department store and picked up a wallet thinking it was my dad's. Accused me of being a petty thief but then I explained it to a nice COP. Like detective Lestrade and they found my dad and I got to go home but my finger prints have been on the system ever since. Like that time I just decided to drive a car without a licence."

"You really were rebellious weren't you?"

"I got bored." Irene replied with a sigh.

"We don't have ATHUS here unfortunately. We all have to wait our turn to use our database or do it manually. Since manually will take longer."

"Shame really." Sherlock stated. "So what killed her?"

"Blow to the back of the head with something blunt."

"If it was a two by four. The husband probably did it. That was from a show I saw." Irene stated.

"Where is John?" Lestrade asked.

"Told him to stay at Baker Street." Sherlock replied.

"So he gets to take me along! Isn't that great?" Irene replied with a grin.

"Here's her the jewellery she was wearing at the time." Anderson said to them, before handing them a bag.

"Nice watch." Irene commented.

"Very nice watch!" Sherlock exclaimed before putting on gloves and taking it out.

"Lestrade. I need access to some files."

* * *

"Missing person Ariana Rayner. Husband waited a day before before calling the police. According to the report she had done this before their wedding and several times during their marriage. All to see her ex boyfriend. Recovering drug addict. He's in prison." Sherlock explained to Irene. She sat down at the desk as he want through the report.

"Sherlock. I don't have to come with you on the case. You can take John."

"We're on an adventure. Be quiet."

"It's just…I don't shut up. I say stupid things and obviously I'm embarrassing you in front of your friends. So I am removing myself from your company besides, I have things to do. I have to find a flat. I have to get things sort with my record company. I'm getting surgery on my hand in a couple of weeks. And because you lured me into your adventure…always adventures with you. Like some sort of fairy tale prince charming. Because you lured me in, I've wasted a day humiliating myself."

"I wasn't embarrassed by you. You don't embarrass me. You just embarrass yourself. Actually Irene Adler. you inspire me." Sherlock smiled. "But shut up a little bit more. We're in this adventure until the end. I have an address for Simon Rayner. Do you want to come with me to talk to him?"

"Really?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes!"

"It's just…you're being really nice to me. Not that you aren't nice it's just…a few people have commented and said that they think you're back on drugs."

"Who said that?"

"Just a couple of people…OK. Anderson maybe. Maybe Lestrade. I think they were just kidding but…are you not nice sometimes?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Are we going or not?" he snapped.

"Yes." she replied.

"Oh and by the way, don't do the whole American Bad Cop thing again. It was painful to watch."

"Tone it down a little? Want me to let you do the talking?"

"If you would."

* * *

Sherlock and Irene approached the flat door they were heading to. When they go there Sherlock chapped the door. A few moments later, a middle aged man opened it. "Sergeant Donovan of Scotland Yard." Irene said, quickly holding up the ID card. "This is a detective Sherlock Holmes. He's consulting with me on a case. Are you Simon Rayner?'

"Simon who?"

Sherlock and Irene glanced at one another. "Did Simon Rayner move out?"

"Are you talking about the guy who lived here before me? He got murdered last month. Hit and run apparently."

The door closed over on them and Sherlock smiled and rubbed his hands together. "There has to be a connection. It has to have been him. The payments stopped two months ago. He's a month late on his payment. Him and someone else were involved."

"So what do we now?"

"Simon had a friend. Let's go talk to him."

* * *

Sherlock and Irene rang the doorbell of Patrick Carol's house. The door opened and a man looked out. Sherlock recognised him from a report photo. "Sergeant Donovan. Scotland Yard. I was wondering if I could talk to you."

* * *

"In the report it said that Ariana had gone missing before. To see an ex. Do you think they were having affair?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. They were."

"So you're telling me that For years Ariana and Simon were married and he just put up with that. Simon? The one who took no one's crap at the bank he worked at?" Irene asked, pulling a dining room chair up and sitting down.

"Simon was going to leave her though.'  
"Oh he was?" Irene asked. "To what though? He must have had nothing if he…didn't want to leave her before. You know what, maybe it was the kids but wait a minute. He'd have stuck with them anyway."

"Simon found someone."

"So they were both having an affair? Whatever happened to marriage vows, huh?" Irene replied.

"Look. I have to get to work, I've got deliveries going out. Can we do this another time?"

"Sure. Give me a call." Irene handed him a card.

* * *

Sherlock and Irene make their way back into the flat building that they'd been to earlier. They knock on the flat door and wait. "Back again?" the owner asked.

"I'm going to need to come in. We think a murder happened here." Irene said. Her and Sherlock pushed by.

"I thought you said you weren't going to do the whole American Bad Cop thing?"

"Sherlock. I'm a musician. I lie all the time." she replied.

"I thought the guy was killed in a hit and run!" exclaimed the flat owner.

"Oh his wife was murdered here." Sherlock said.

"Some family!" the guy replied.

"What do you think happened, woman?" Sherlock asked her.

"Me? I think the husband did it because his wife was having an affair and he wanted to get off his new girlfriend without the consequences of divorce papers so he killed her."

"Is that all you've got."

"Pretty much."

"Thank you for letting us look at your flat." Sherlock said to the owner. "Continue with what you were doing."  
He grabbed Irene's arm and began pulling her. "He would have needed the freezer to get her out of there, which means it got deliver which means it had to be signed in a ledger downstairs at the doorman."

They make their way downstairs. "One delivery on the day she went missing. To number 12."

The took the stairs and knocked on the door. "Hi." they both said in unison to an old lady.

"Who are you?"

"We're detectives."

She held up the ID. "We're investigating the murder of a young woman who used to live int his building. Tell me, did you receive a freezer six months ago?"

"I didn't receive. I sent it away. I didn't order it. Had a whole argument with the doorman about it. But they took it away. Was gone by the time I turned around. Just a mistake probably. Why do I need to explain this to you again. I already explained it to the last detective that showed up."

She closed the door over. "What is it with people doing that to us?" Irene asked. "It's so rude!"

"He'd have needed something to carry the freezer. Not a car. Who'd you call if you had murdered someone?"

"You." Irene replied.

"Why would you call me?" Sherlock replied.

"Well because you might be able to help me get away with it because in case you've not noticed you're really clever."

"Oh believe I've noticed."

"Also. I trust you because you're my friend."

"Best friend?"

"Yes."

"So wouldn't Simon Rayner have went to his best friend?"

* * *

"Mystery solved." Irene said as she watched Lestrade finish up in interrogation with Patrick Carol. "And we didn't get into too much trouble for impersonating a police offer."

Sherlock smiled and looked at her. "Not all of the mystery is solved. How Simon Rayner died."

* * *

After asking more questions Irene and Sherlock sat out Ariana Rayner's father's house. He was chasing his grandchildren around the garden. "So we call Lestrade now?" Irene asked, a tear falling down her cheek.

"No." Sherlock replied. "That man killed the man who killed his daughter."

"Here I thought you only saw in black and white. Right or wrong."

"He was right. In America if Simon had been prosecuted he could have gotten the death penalty depending on what state."

"You're a really good man, Sherlock." Irene replied. "Of course he did'nt just commit murde,r he impersonated a police officer too."

"We can't talk."

"No we can't." Irene replied. "My dad would do the same if someone killed me. He'd put a bullet in their head probably. He was a sniper in the marines. Shooting's always the answer with him."

"I've noticed." Sherlock replied.

Irene laughed.

"Dinner?" he asked.

"Really?"

"Isn't that what people do on dates?"

"Why have dates when we could have adventures?" Irene asked.

"This is why I like you."

"You like me?" Irene asked. "Good. I like you too."

* * *

"Friday nights to Sunday nights you promised." Anthea said to Mycroft as he stepped into the kitchen one Saturday night.

"I have the rest of the week off." Mycroft replied, quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Great. Just great you know. You could have called to tell me that but no…"

"Been busy." he replied.

"Did I hear you say you'd' be staying her here a week?" Mrs Holmes asked, walking into the kitchen. "That's great. You can keep us both company."

"Yes. I look forward to it." Mycroft replied dryly. He took his phone out of his pocket and text Sherlock.

Where are you? You said you'd come with me!

"What is it? Who are you talking to?" Anthea asked.

"What's wrong? Why are you so aggressive?" Mycroft asked.

"She's tired. She's not been sleeping. Morning sickness. Whoever said it was limited to the morning was lying." Mrs Holmes replied. "I'll get you some camomile tea dear. Mycroft sit down."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and sat down, putting his hand over Anthea's. "It'll be alright." he told her.

"I'm sorry. I'm just…tired. I'm used to doing work as well."

"Don't stress it's not good for you. At least that's what you tell me."

She smiled. "I'm glad you're back."  
She hugged him and he patted her back. "Me too."


	8. The Devil's Good Wishes

A/N Hey everyone. Thanks to all of you who have read, subcrisbed, reviewed, etc. It's so appreciated! Thank you!

So here's the next chapter, which is going to be building up to Mycroft and Sherly, working together on taking down Moriarty.

There will also be Adlock, and Mythea.

More Molstrade and a bit of Mary will come. I should say that this story takes up until John decides to ask Mary to marry him then it ends, and then rolls in the sequel. Because this story is mainly focusing on Adlock, Mythea and how it's affected by Moriarty. But I do want to do more for season 3 in sequel. Definitely.

Also, I'm trying to think of names for Mrs and Mr Holmes because I'm getting tired of calling them Mrs and Mr Holmes in my fic. But not thought of anything.

FYI: Anthea is going to have two boy twins. But obviously not in this chapter. This chapter is really just exploring that Moriarty is going to use the two major ships in the story to get to the Holmes brother.

Again thanks for reading etc. and sorry for long A/N I just want to inform everyone on how this story is going to be played out.

**Those Beating Hearts of Ours**

**Chapter Eight**

**The Devil's Good Wishes**

**May 1st, 2012 **

"But don't be scared." began Jim Moriarty, who was sitting in Sherlock's chair in Baker Street. Sherlock was sitting across from him in John's chair. "Falling's just like flying except there's a more permeant destination."

Sherlock stood up and glanced at him for a moment before answering him. "I never liked riddles."

"Learn to." Jim said, standing up to meet him eye to eye. "Because I owe you a fall Sherlock. I. Owe. You."

Jim left the room, and as soon as he was downstairs Sherlock made his way into the hall and glanced at the door to his bedroom. It opened and Irene stepped out, folding her arms. "Well I take it he wasn't found guilty then?" she questioned.

There was the sound of a phone getting a text message and Irene took her's out of her jeans pocket. Irene looked at it and her face fell. "Irene." Sherlock uttered.

"Yeah?" she asked, looking up at him. "What's up?"

"Who's the text from?"

"Just someone wishing me good luck with my surgery tomorrow." Irene replied, quietly. "It's about time I'm getting it done too. The thing's get more and more stiff. Hurts when it's raining. I'm useless without my other hand. I need to play piano to write. Imagine you didn't have your eyes."

"Irene."

She handed him the phone and Sherlock read the text message.

**Hope your surgery goes well, considering. xx JM**

Sherlock glanced at her and she bowed her head. "You're not getting the surgery." Sherlock told her.

"That's not up to you." Irene replied, quietly. She walked past him and downstairs, and Sherlock sighed.

* * *

"Kind of you to work from here." Anthea said to Mycroft in the kitchen at Mycroft's parents' house. Mycroft typed into his laptop for a few moments before looking up to her and sending a smile. "You don't have to you know. I know how frustrating it is-"

"It's not the same without you." he replied, with a small smile.

"You getting sentimental on me, Iceman?" Anthea asked, warmly with a smile. Her phone buzzed on the table and she picked it up as Mycroft continued to type. "Oh."

"Is that Sherlock? Ask him where the hell he is. We need to have a discussion about James Moriarty." Mycroft replied, without looking up from the computer.

"I could be wrong, Myky but-" Anthea began with a tone that rarely was shown in Anthea's voice. Worry.

Mycroft looked up as Anthea looked at him, hesitating to continue. "I think I just got a message from the devil himself."

She handed her phone to Mycroft who read the text message.

**Have you and Big Brother been picking out baby names? If not you really should! JM**

Mycroft leaned back in his chair before standing up, picking up his own mobile and entering the living room where his mother and father were, talking away. "You decided to leave that computer of yours for five minutes? No wonder you ended up with an aneurysm. Must not have been very good for you." his mother said, sternly.

"I'm calling Sherlock."

"Good luck getting through to him."

Mycroft found Sherlock's number in his directory and began to call him. Sherlock answered almost instantly. "I need you here at once Sherlock."

"I was just about to call you. I think I'm going to die Mycroft. Moriarty is going to try and kill me."

"Is Moriarty doing me favours now?" Mycroft asked his brother, sarcastically. Of course Mycroft didn't mean it. He'd never let anyone harm anyone in his family.

His mother looked up at him. "Who's Moriarty? Tell your brother I want to talk to him."

"Not now, mother." Mycroft replied firmly. "This is important!"

"More important than family?" his father asked him. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Don't you-" began Mrs Holmes.

"Sherlock. Vatican Cameos. Now. Get here as soon as possible. Even if I have to send a helicopter for you! And bring your girlfriend, Anthea could do with some company."

"Sherlock has a girlfriend?!" Mrs Holmes asked.

"I don't have a girlfriend." Sherlock said on the other side of the phone call. "And can't we meet up in one of your offices."

"It's not that easy. I'm not allowed to leave the house. Just…please. He texted Anthea about the baby."

Sherlock's eye's widened. "Is she okay?" Sherlock asked with a swallow.

"She will be. I think we've left the matter of the consulting criminal go on for too long."

"He texted Irene about her surgery."

"Well surely she should cancel it?"

"It's like trying to talk to a wall."

"Women. What were we thinking of Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, and his mother drew him a look. "Just hurry. I beg you."

When Mycroft got off of the phone, his mother stood up and folded her arms. "I don't understand have the things you say to your brother but if someone's trying to kill you two, I want to know about it."

"With any luck they will." Mycroft replied, with a roll of the eyes.

He made his way back into the kitchen and over to his laptop which Anthea was on. "Don't you have your own one dear?"

"This email to the prime minister. Several mistakes in it."

"It's a draft."

"I'm not on about typos. You said that your last meeting was last month. It was two months ago." Anthea told him. "Beverly James wasn't in that meeting it was the one before it. You wouldn't have happened to zone out in that last meeting, Myky?"

"I got muddled."

"It's not like you. Why don't you take a break and I'll sort out all your duties. Besides, I need to make myself busy for something. Your parents and _you _have been treating me like I'm going to break and it's nice and I love all of you but I'm not going to break if I make a cup of tea, or use a laptop. If you're working here then I can work with you. It's only logical."

"Would you like me to make you some tea?" Mycroft offered. "Since you're busy on my laptop."

"No. Your tea tastes like dishwater." Anthea replied, with a smile. Mycroft drew her a look. "I'm only being honest."

He sat down and sighed heavily. Anthea looked at him. "Moriarty was going to find out sooner or later. He's doing this to make you on edge, to make you feel worried and throw you off. Don't let him win, Mycroft. Because you and Sherlock will beat him but you can't let him burn you. He's trying to make you frightened of doing what you have to do."

"What is that I have to do?" Mycroft asked her.

"Stop him." she replied, drawing him a look. "I thought that was obvious."

"You look tired." Mycroft said to Anthea and Anthea looked over to him. "Cutting down to one cup of coffee a day is really taking it's toll on you."

"You're not exactly looking fabulous yourself at the moment. When was the last time _you _slept?" Anthea replied. "Besides, I can't have _any _coffee because you know I have my usual coffee shop. Every time I go to go outside for a walk, someone catches me. And it's really difficult to say no to your mother."

The door opened from the living room and Mrs Holmes stepped in. "How are you feeling now dear? Has he got you doing his work for him?"

"Actually no, I left mine upstairs and I'm borrowing his laptop. He's always so nice to me, letting me use it. He won't let anyone else."

"That's alright then." she said before moving over to the kettle. "Cup of tea, dear?"

"No thank you." Anthea replied, with a swallow.

"Is Sherlock really coming then?" Mrs Holmes asked, turning to Mycroft and Mycroft winced. "Two of you in my house at the one time, it's like miracles exist."

"He's coming to see me, mother."

"Always the same with you two, joined at the hip." she commented in reply, before collecting the tea bags from the cupboard and placing them into two cups. "Do you want tea, Myk?"

"Mycroft." he said, correcting her before rolling his eyes. "And no thank you."

"Sherlock and Mycroft probably have something case related to do." Anthea stated, with a warm smile being sent in her mother in law's direction.

"I wish you two would pick jobs that didn't put you in harms way. You get caught up in an explosion and Sherlock was driven to drugs."

"Sherlock was not driven to drugs because of his job, he was driven to drugs because everyone around him was stupid." Mycroft replied. "And because he got bored. Not because of his job."

"He took the drugs to help him cope when he didn't have a case. I blame his job. Being bored is not a valid reason. And not everyone around him is stupid. You're around him a lot and you're not. Although sometimes I question that."

"Mother can we please drop the subject. I am starting to get a headache. The last thing I need is you giving me another aneurysm."

"You make it sound like I gave you the last one."

"I was not suggesting that." Mycroft replied with a sigh. "Is father still in the living room?"

Mrs Holmes put the tea on a tray, along with some biscuits. "No. He's outside shooting clay pigeons in the rain."

She wandered into the living room with the tea and Anthea cleared her throat. "Sometimes I don't know if she's being sarcastic or telling the truth. You truly take after her."

Mycroft didn't reply to that comment, he just removed his phone and texted Sherlock to hurry.


	9. First Night's Visit

**Those Beating Hearts of Ours**

**Chapter Nine**

**First Night's Visit **

"So you're driving us there?" commented Sherlock in the car, on the way to his parent's house with Irene who kept on drawing him angry glances. She sighed. "It's just Mycroft offered a helicopter. It would have been quicker and you would be able to rest your hand. I can drive if you like."

"The grip in my hand would not be a problem, Sherlock. If you'd just let me go for surgery." Irene replied, through gritted teeth. She took her bad hand off of the wheel and tried to flex her fingers. It was sore and stiff.

"Moriarty sent you that text message for a reason. So until your surgeon has been through security checks, and I know you're safe-"

Irene sighed, exasperated. "For god sakes, Sherlock you sound like my father!" she replied, bitterly. She looked at him and shook her head.

"I'm not that stupid." he remarked.

"Now you're calling my father stupid. Just for your information he had few choice words to say about you when I told him you and I had begun whatever this is."

"Then why are you even here?" Sherlock snapped. "You don't _need_ to put up with me! Why do you?"

Irene swallowed and looked out of the window at the rain. "Because I want to." she replied, simply and more softly. "And I'm sorry that I am being a bitch, Sherlock. I'm just…All I can do is write and sing and play piano."

"You're talented in sketching and painting." Sherlock reminded her, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

"You know your profession is consulting detective? Well mine is being a musician. And you play violin as a hobby. Well sketching is like me playing the violin."

"You could have just said it's a hobby and then I would understand what you said."

"Just trying to put things into your perspective. I mean, since you're so self absorbed I thought you'd appreciate it." she remarked.

Her phone went off and she handed it to him. "Who is it?"

Sherlock read the text.

**Shame you cancelled your surgery for a later date, I was in the middle of deciding which flowers to order. JM**

Sherlock turned to Irene and quoted what Jim had just texted her. "Is it me or is that quite ambiguous? The flowers of my recovery or my grave?" she asked.

"I don't care." Sherlock replied. "I'm not happy."

* * *

Anthea looked at her phone went it went off on the kitchen table. Mycroft was upstairs making a phone call. She looked at the phone and read the text message.

**Still stuck on names? What about Thanatos. Nice name if it's a boy. The meaning of the name is very intriguing. I think it'd suit your child, Anthea. JM**

She swallowed and was tempted to text back but decided against it. She would just ignore it. She got up and poured herself a glass of water from the tap before making her way into the library to sit down into the room filled with books. It was like a large study or a small library.

It was an hour later that Mycroft stepped into the room and found her. "For a minute I thought you'd escaped on me."

"I'm too tired to." she replied, with a sigh. "How did the phone call go?"

"As it always does." he replied, before sitting down on the armchair in front of her. "Norton is no longer meeting the standards of his job. However until there is a new meeting, we cannot possibly get rid of him. He's managed to alienate himself with the people we were finally making peace with in Turkey. That whole incident at the embassy was dreadful."

"He can resign."

"There's no way in which we can make him resign. The thing is though, our contact in the Turkish Embassy, is vital to a mission taking place over in Turkey. There's far too many arms being smuggled from there and I want to put a stop to it. We need as much cooperation as possible! And it was only a mere approximate of eight or nine months ago that we were rooting for him so hard that we sent my brother off to his future girlfriend's house to collect her camera phone!"

"The irony of politics." Anthea said with an amused smirk before taking another sip of her water.

"I got another text from six six six." Anthea commented. "He suggested that I call my child Thanatos if it's a boy. I don't think so because wouldn't he get his head put down the toilet or something like that?"

Mycroft asked for the phone and Anthea handed it to him. "I'm changing your number just for the record so that he can't get in contact with you."

"How did he get in contact with me anyway?" she asked.

"The meaning of the name is very intriguing."

Mycroft took his own phone and looked it up before looking over to Anthea. "What's the matter, Myky?"

"Nothing." he said before getting up and handed it back to her. "Everything is alright."

He walked to the door and she stood up and said very firmly. "No!"

He turned around and looked at her. "You don't get to lie to my face like that, Mycroft Holmes! I can cope with whatever crap is thrown at me but I will not cope with you lying to me to my face!"

"The meaning of Thanatos is death, Anthea."

"OK then that's all you had to say! I'm seen and heard worse or perhaps our cover story has become so great that you've started believing it because in case you've forgotten I was a senior field officer for MI5!" She pressed her hand to her forehead. "Now I have a headache. Why do you always to have be so stubborn?"

"Because my heart would be broken if something was to happen to you. You're always protecting me, you're always saving me, you're always there for me. Just for once can't I do the same for you?"

With a sigh she walked over to him and kissed him. "You are always there for me. You do always protect me and you have always saved me. You saved me from myself." She wrapped her arms around him and tears fell down from her eyes. "I love you."

"And I love you, Anthea. So please trust me to sort all of this out." he replied, softly tightening the hug because the danger they'd been trying to avoid for so long was becoming so very, truly, real.

There was a knock coming from the kitchen door suddenly and Anthea jumped. "I'll get it." she said, with a sigh.

"No I will. You sit down. I'll bring you something for your headache." Mycroft stepped into the kitchen, knowing full well that it would probably be Sherlock and he wanted to talk to his brother before his mother got there but it was too late, Mrs Holmes was already at the door.

"Why is it locked? You always say your door is open!" Sherlock's voice complained and then Mrs Holmes put her arms over her boy as Irene stood awkwardly behind them. Anthea stepped into the room and smiled to see Sherlock who walked over and hugged her. "How is my sister in law?"

"I'm perfectly well, Sherly. How's my brother in law?" Anthea replied.

"Bored." he replied before turning to Mycroft. "Hello, brother dear."

"Sherlock." Anthea gestured to towards Irene who was bowing her head. Anthea broke into a whisper "You need to introduce Irene."

"Why?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Sherlock aren't you going to introduce us?" Mrs Holmes, ask before looking at Irene pointedly.

"I'm sorry. I'm Irene." Irene said, extending her hand and smiling. For someone who was used to greeting people all over the world, she felt awkward and nervous where she was. Like she didn't belong.

"Why don't you come through here?" Anthea suggested to Irene. "I need to talk to you about a thing."

Irene nodded and followed Anthea into the library. "Thank you for that, I felt out of place." Irene said to Anthea.

"I've been feeling like that since I came here. Don't get me wrong they're really nice but…I just…it's hard to explain. I feel as though we're all from different worlds and we've been throw into a rocket ship together. It's just awkward sometimes."

They both sat down and Irene smiled. "Why do you always look like a supermodel?"

"Believe me I don't feel like a supermodel. I really need to get new clothes." Anthea replied.

"Do you want to go get new clothes?" Irene replied.

"Like actually leave this house for them?"

Irene nodded. "I'll take you."

"Can we be friends?" Anthea asked and Irene laughed and nodded her head.

"We should get shirts that say I'm in a relationship with a Holmes send help."

"Are you in a relationship with Sherlock?"

"I don't really know. At least you and Mycroft know where you stand. Sherlock is this song that I am listening to but unable to write."

"That doesn't make sense."

"That's the point."

"I miss London."

"So do I and I just came from there." Irene replied.

"You've made my day." Anthea said.

"You've made mine too."

* * *

When they came back with their shopping bags, Anthea and Irene took them and sat them in the staircase hall before coming back into the kitchen where Mrs Holmes greeted them with tea and a smile. "You look much more happier now. It's always great to be in the company of another girl."

"It was nice getting out and stretching my legs. But now I'm exhausted." Anthea admitted. "Were you like that when you were carrying the boys?"

"All the time." she replied before petting Anthea's hair. Anthea sat down and Irene smiled to them both.

"I'm just going to find Sherlock. Do you know where he is?" Irene asked Mrs Holmes.

"He's in the library. Him and Mycroft are hovering over the one laptop. I got thrown out. Can't even take them in a cup of tea."

"Oh really?" Irene asked at the same time Anthea said "They did not?"

"Oh yes." Mrs Holmes replied. "Oh I'm used to it. They were always the same."

"I'll go ask if they need anything." Irene said, quietly. Her phone began to ring in her pocket and she brought it out. "Oh it's my dad." she said, before dropping it right of her hand. Anthea caught it and looked at it for a brief moment with frowned eyebrows before handing it back to its owner.

"Hello." Irene answered as she walked into the library.

"She has a bad wrist." Anthea explained to Mrs Holmes.

"Oh is that why she's hasn't been doing anything? I thought she was retiring." Mrs Holmes replied.

"She was meant to get surgery but I don't know what's happening with that." Anthea replied, with a smile. "Do you need a hand with dinner?"

"Oh don't you worry, dear. You just rest."

Irene stepped out in the kitchen. "Well, they've informed me that they do not require food or beverages and my dad is on his way to meet the President."

"Your father is on his way to meet the President?" questioned Mrs Holmes. "As in…"

"The President of The United States. My father has a high position at the Pentagon. Admiral Frederick Ford. Can I give you a hand with anything?"

"Oh no, dear. I only have the one dinner set." Mrs Holmes replied and Irene's smile faded. "I mean that with the best of intentions."

"I could pop down to the village for shopping or anything you need. Or I could do something."

"You're alright dear." she replied before stepping into the living room.

"She had a point, I probably would drop the dishes." Irene said before sitting down next to Anthea.

"It's alright. She meant well." Anthea replied. "The other day there she told me not to wear a blouse because she thought the buttons on it were probably rare and couldn't get replacements. Do you know what that did for my self esteem?"

"It's alright I know a designer who could probably replicate it." Irene commented and Anthea laughed. "So Mycroft asked Sherlock to bring me down to keep you company. What can I do to cheer you up?"

"You've already cheered me up." Anthea replied with a smile.

"Wait here a minute." Irene said to Anthea before popping outside. She came back a few minutes later with a bag. She sat back down and took a sketch pad out and a pencil. "I'm going to draw you."

"Really? Can you autograph it? I could sell it."

"I was thinking more put it on your wall and you can tell your child's friends that you know a famous person."

"Irene. I was wondering if I could bring up something that might be really sensitive to you but it's for the sake of national security."

Irene began to lightly line out her sketch as she replied. "You can ask away, Anthea."

"Do you still have the photos of you and Norton hanging out and stuff?"

Irene looked at her. "I left that life behind."

"But the thing is, the photos were still insurance so you must have them."

"On an old memory card." Irene replied, looking at Anthea. "Why?"

"Can I have them ? We want to blackmail Norton."

Irene looked at Anthea confused. "Are you kidding me? You lot sent Sherlock after me for those photos and now you want them to blackmail Norton? What is with you politicians and hypocrisy?"

"Hey I never liked the guy and I stuck up for you by the way!" Anthea replied.

Irene smiled. "You did?"

"Yeah. I did. I mean they were making you out to be the problem and it was him who was the real arse! And to be quite frank you could have done better. Sherlock's an arse too but he's an improvement!"

"I'll get you the memory stick." Irene replied with a smile. "But I'll finish drawing you first."

"OK." Anthea replied, before leaning back. "Oh wait, I'm not supposed to move am I?"

"It's alright, I've a good photographic memory when it comes to drawing and I'm almost done."

"Oh good. Because I don't think I'd have been able to stay still." Anthea laughed.

Irene smiled and was glad she was ambidextrous. Or else, drawing would have been very difficult for her. At that moment Sherlock stepped into the kitchen and leaned over Irene's shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"You won't tell me what you're doing so I'm not telling you. Now go away, I don't require Consulting Detectives."

"I need another laptop can I borrow yours?"

"It's in the bag." Irene replied before pointing at it with her bad hand. "And I really need my hand fixed because your mother is worried I'm going to break her dinner set."

"It's a possibility you're dropping everything at the moment."

Sherlock walked away into the library with Irene's laptop. "You know, since we started whatever it is we started he's stopped being as charming and impressive. Because he doesn't need to be anymore."

"Same with Mycroft. They thing because they have you they don't need to try. It's not their fault. But once the thrill of the chase if over it's…"

"Casual." Irene replied. "Comfortable and built."

"Yeah. It's great that too."

"Did Mycroft chase you or was it all mutual?"

"I think he was confused as to how he felt about me at first. He kept on needing MI5. I used to work for MI5. He kept on requesting me and we'd go to these professional dinners together until he finally worked it all out and just asked me if I wanted to go to dinner without their needing to be some sort of security crisis. I've met a lot of people, a lot of men. But Mycroft understood me. We just…connected. And I like the fact he's a stuck up, arrogant prat sometimes because that's his armour and I get to see him when it's not on. I get to see the caring big brother, the worried expecting father. I get to see Mycroft."

"That's nice." Irene replied with a smile before handing the finished sketch over to Anthea who smiled. "What do you think?"

"You could have made me look younger!" joked Anthea.

The door from the living room opened.

"Oh hello. There's another beautiful woman in the house now." Mr Holmes said, as he stepped into the kitchen.

Irene and Anthea looked around, jokingly. "You're Sherlock's girl aren't you?" Mr Holmes asked.

"I think so." Irene replied, with a smile. "I can see where Sherlock got his handsome looks from."

"I was wondering if you two young ladies would like to join me for a game of cards."

"That's if she doesn't drop the pile. Don't let her shuffle." Anthea commented.

"That's below the belt, Anthea Holmes!" Irene replied, animatedly. "I'll clear the table. Maybe not the tea, Anthea just put it to the side a bit."

"Good idea." Anthea replied.

* * *

"So he's going to want to ruin me. So we give him everything he needs to do that." Sherlock said to Mycroft, seriously.

"Then what?"

"After he's ruined me he's going to want me dead." Sherlock replied.

The door to the library opened and Anthea stepped in. "It's time for bed. And none of you go, I'll turn the internet off."

"Tomorrow then?" Sherlock asked Mycroft.

"Yes." Mycroft replied before standing up and putting his hands in his pockets. "Goodnight, brother dear."

Mycroft put his arm around Anthea and they both left the library.


	10. His Inspiration

**Those Beating Hearts of Ours**

**Chapter Ten **

**His Inspiration**

When Sherlock got upstairs to his old room, he found Irene putting on her coat. He frowned his eyebrows and she looked over to him. "Are you leaving me?"

"I'm going to sleep in the car." she replied, quietly before bowing her head. She was about to speak again when Sherlock, became annoyed.

"You're not sleeping in the car. You've just complained to me for hours about your hand! And now you want to go outside in the rain and cold for a nap when you can sleep with me."

"With a pillow in between us because the whole idea of you even holding me repulses you?" Irene replied, with a swallow. "Anyway, I just want to apologise Sherlock because I've been a complete and utter bitch lately."

"You are not-"

"Since the explosion, I've been so bitter and a tiny bit unkind. Anthea asked me to give her material to blackmail Norton with and I said yes. That's not me. I don't believe in doing that to people, no matter how horrible that they were or are. I've changed in a very bad way and you shouldn't have to deal with me being like that."

"If I can't be with you at your worst, I don't deserve you at your best Miss Adler." Sherlock replied, simply. Irene blinked and sighed. "I got that from somewhere. Don't know where. But it is relevant. I'm not exactly perfect to live with either."

"You're only human."

"I'm not human at all, Irene Adler. But you are. You inspire me. You make me want to be better. Not just as a detective, you make me want to be a better human being."

She sat on the ottoman at the bottom of the bed, removing the bauble from her hair and wiping the tears forming in her eyes. Sherlock sat beside her. "Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side, Irene Adler but even if I lose I have you now. I think by my own standards that is nothing less than a victory."

"Stop it." she whispered.

"I can give you many reasons why I have such a thing as sentiment for you. But as to why you would want me in return, is a mystery. But not a mystery that is as beautiful, unsolvable or so complex as the woman sitting right beside me. You're the only mystery worth solving and the only mystery that I cannot."

"Please stop."

"It has never been my intention to ever hurt you. I'm the most rude, obnoxious arse hole that has ever existed but it's never been my intention to be such a thing around you. I find this sort of thing very trying and-"

Irene smiled and turn to him. "Please stop. Why do you always have to be lovely? You know you can meet someone and they are extremely hot but you speak to them and within a few moments there tedious, dull and not who you want to spend time with. Then you meet someone who you think is a really annoying, not as good looking as he makes himself out to be type man, and who sometimes wears a silly hat. But then you talk to that person and you spend time with them, and their personality, their mind, their heart, it's written all over their face and they just become so beautiful. Sherlock Holmes, you're the most beautiful man that I've ever met."

Sherlock froze suddenly and Irene looked confused. He wasn't even blinking. "Have I broke you?" she asked, in astonishment.

He swallowed. "I didn't say any of that aloud did I?"

"Say what?"

"Didn't think so. Basically: thank you."

"You're welcome."

They both stared at the floor and sighed, and eventually Irene stood up and walked to the door. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I am still going to sleep in the car. I am going to give you space Sherlock. I think you need it. You are trying to have a relationship at the same pace as everyone else who has one and I think that perhaps you need more time so I am going to leave and go and sleep in the car."

She left the room and Sherlock gazed at the empty door way for almost five minutes before getting up and closing the door over.

* * *

In the morning, Anthea sighed as she sat down at the kitchen table. Sherlock drew her a look from the armchair, next to the kitchen fireplace before standing up and sitting across from her. The both of them, were the only one's awake. "How are you feeling?" he asked her, politely.

Anthea looked up at him and let out another sigh. "I'm going to the hospital today for a scan. Mind you I should have had it a couple of weeks ago but you know what security vetting is like and I'm letting him do all that and I know why he's doing all that but, I just can't help but worry that Mycroft is going to get so stressed about this. I'm trying not to be stressed myself but anyway how are you?"

"Irene slept in the car last night. In fact she's still sleeping in the car. But that's not what I wanted to tell you. Why did you ask her for those photographs?"

"National security and all that jazz."

"Get them from someone else, Anthea."

"She was okay to-"

"She's isn't." Sherlock interrupted her and Anthea sighed, her eyes widening.

"But Mycroft is having trouble with a mission that's taken place in Turkey, and if we don't get rid of Norton he's going to shred the ties we have over there. In case you've not noticed, he's a little bit of an arse!"

"But Irene isn't." Sherlock replied, quietly. "Irene is kind. She has a conscience."

"I just wanted to help Mycroft with one thing because he is so stressed." Anthea replied, calmly. "Besides, his mind will be at a greater ease to deal with Moriarty."

With a sigh, Sherlock stood up and made his way to the front door. "She won't give you them. Tell her you don't need them anymore. That he's already resigned. Then I will give you them."

"You'll do that?" Anthea asked.

"The Woman gave me the memory card." Sherlock replied before opening the door and stepping into the cold air. He made his way to the car, where he found Irene drawing in her sketchbook. He opened the car and she sighed. "Get inside. You're freezing."

"I had a coat on. I'm fine."

"Come on. Breakfast soon."

She sighed and got out before following him inside. "I'm going to the hospital today, finally!" Anthea said to Irene.

"Good luck, then." Irene replied, before sitting down at the table.

"Listen I have good news. I don't need those photographs. Norton is going to resign willingly due to stress issues."

"I can't imagine what he has to be stressed about." Irene commented with a chuckle. "Maybe he's got five women on the go."

"You should go get a warm shower or something." Sherlock told Irene. "Before you freeze to death."

"I'm not cold." Irene replied, with a yawn.

"You're saying that now but when you come to me with Pneumonia…"

"Do you think it's a girl or a boy?" Irene asked Anthea, before Sherlock could continue his sentence.

"I don't really know."

"Boys consume more calories in a diet, and with what you've been eating lately it's probably a boy. Probably twins actually." Sherlock commented.

"I didn't know you were a an expert in that field, Sherlock." Irene remarked.

"What field?"

"You know obstetrics and gynaecology." There was a brief moment of silence where Anthea tried not to smirk and then Irene stood up and cleared her throat. "Would any of you like some tea?"

"No." Anthea and Sherlock said in unison.

She looked at them with suspicion before turning around walking out of the kitchen to go upstairs. "Surprised there's any function in her hand." Sherlock stated. "Where's Mycroft?"

"Still sleeping." responded Anthea.

"Will you be out all day?" asked Sherlock.

"Not all day but most of it."

"I'm going back to London and I'll be back tomorrow then." Sherlock replied.

"Oh." murmured Anthea. "So Irene will be going too?"

"Yes." Sherlock replied and Anthea started crying. "What? What did I do?"

"Nothing. I just really enjoy her company that's all. If you need help picking her out a birthday present…just let me know."

She began wiping her eyes.

Sherlock rolled his own eyes and went upstairs, passing Mycroft on the way up. "Your dolphin is crying."

"Again?" Mycroft asked before letting out a sigh.

"What were you thinking of Mycroft?" Sherlock replied before making his way upstairs.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and made his way downstairs to make a phone call about travel arrangements.


	11. The Detective's Downfall

**Those Beating Hearts of Ours**

**Chapter Eleven **

**The Detective's Downfall**

It was her birthday and Irene sighed as she woke up on the sofa at Baker Street to find Sherlock leaning over her and shaking her. "You need to get up. I have a surprise for you. It's your birthday after all!" he informed her. She blinked and winced. She never told Sherlock about her birthday. She tilted her head as he brought her a duffle bag and grinned. "I have a surprise for you. Did I mention that? And I have more presents other than the surprise but you need to wake up!"

"Yeah." she replied, before yawning. "Can we do the surprise later?"

He pull her up and began pushing her into the hall and to the bathroom. "We have a schedule. And before you ask, wikipedia was at my disposable! So it better really be your birthday today. And you're twenty nine right? I ordered a cake."

"You got me a cake?" Irene asked before kissing his cheek. "You're the most sweetest man ever!"

"Yes but _are _you twenty nine?" Sherlock replied.

"It's rude to ask someone their age, Sherlock!" Irene replied.

Sherlock pouted.

"Yes. I'm twenty nine!" she responded before closing the bathroom door behind.

"You've ten minutes!" Sherlock told her.

He turned around and found John staring at him in amusement, and with his arms folded. The army doctor looked to the door and back to Sherlock. "So does she use up all the hot water or…"

Sherlock stormed past the army doctor and into the living room. "You heard anything else from Moriarty?" John asked Sherlock.

"No." lied Sherlock. "Have you?"

"No. I haven't." John replied, before sitting in his armchair and opening a newspaper. "So how long is _The _Woman going to be staying here in Baker Street?"

Sherlock went to speak but then stopped himself because he knew that she wouldn't be staying long. It would only be a few more weeks before he had to say goodbye to everyone. The thing was; he didn't know how to tell Irene that or if he should. He wouldn't be telling John. At least he could give Irene a good birthday.

"As long as she needs to." Sherlock answered, John. "It's what friends do for each other isn't it?"

"Really? So why do I get the feeling when I'm around you two, I should be leaving you alone?" John asked him. "You clearly like her. So you should do something about it. Ask her to dinner or out for a drink. I mean she clearly must like you, she's stayed around long enough. Are you telling me a pop star like her can't find somewhere to stay?"

Sherlock picked up his violin and began to play it.

John moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge, taking out cold pizza from the night before. "That's not yours."

"Irene won't mind." John replied, quietly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Ten minutes later, Irene stepped into the living room, dressed. "You seen my hair dryer?" she asked.

Sherlock moved to the duffle bag, and removed it from there before handing it to her. "Do you need to help to brush and dry your hair? What with your hand…"

"Young love.' John commented and Sherlock drew him a look.

Irene turned around walked out of the room, a smirk on her face as she remembered what Anthea told her about John hitting on her back when the army doctor was just acquainted with Sherlock.

"You're totally going out with her and you won't convince me otherwise."

"I've better things to do." Sherlock replied.

* * *

"So where are we going?" Irene asked Sherlock as he led her into a building with a blindfold on. "Are we going to a crime scene?"

"I tried. Had to settle for something else."

He removed her blindfold and Irene realised she was in a hospital. "Umm…"

"You're going to get the surgery on your hand. I've flown in the one of the best world class orthopaedic surgeons, who's consulting with a world class neurosurgeon and I've made sure you're going to be safe. I'll also be watching over you from the gallery. So, Adler. Happy birthday."

"Adler?"

"Yes. Adler." he replied before leading her to reception. "They're going to keep you in for a couple of hours after your surgery, once you've recovered from the general. If you can properly function without falling asleep you get to go out. Either way you'll get birthday cake."

"Sherlock…"

He leaned in and his lips touched hers and at first she didn't know how to react, but then she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned it. When they broke away she smiled. "You can't do anything simple. It's always amazing isn't it?"

"Let's get your hand fixed." he replied.

"I'm going to make this up to you one day, Sherlock Holmes."

"You don't have to."

"I know I don't _have _to but I _want _to."

He smiled and spoke to the receptionist.

* * *

"OK. I've decided." Anthea said to Mycroft who was on his laptop. "Lucas and Hugo."

"I thought you were aiming for names that wouldn't cause the other children to resort to bullying, Anthea dear."

"Well you're name is Mycroft and you're still alive. So we're going with those names."

"Alright." Mycroft replied. "I'll inform mother of the news."

"I already told her. She agrees that they are nice names. So when is Sherlock going to die again?"

"Speaking of that. I have to go back to London for a while."

"Why?" Anthea asked on the verge of tears.

"It's the next part of our plan. To feed Moriarty information bout Sherlock to give to the newspapers."

"Oh yes. I forgot. I'm so stupid!"

"Anthea. You're not stupid."

"I know. I just feel that way." she replied.

Mycroft stood up with his laptop and put it away. "I'm leaving this afternoon."

"Yeah. I know. I remember now."

"When Moriarty is gone, you can come back. I've got added security around our house in London now."

"Do we still have the treadmill at home?"

"Do you think I still need it?"

"I mean for me." she replied. "It's not always about you, you know. The world doesn't revolve around Mycroft Holmes, even though you practically own the whole wide world."

"Just Britain dear."

Anthea handed him a usb stick and gave it to Mycroft. "A contact of mine emailed me the pictures on this USB flash drive. Now go and deal with Norton."

"What contact?" Mycroft asked.

"It wasn't Adler." Anthea told him. "But someone who knows her and despises Norton."

"You can just say Sherlock."

"He didn't want you to know that he was doing you a favour." Anthea replied. "You two are so adorable!"

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Your mummy seems to think so." she said before straightening his tie and kissing him. "I think so too. And you know I'm never wrong."

"But you _are _forgetful."

"I'm not forgetful. The babies are."

"But there's times when you're absentminded."

"I'm always thinking about something better." she replied, with a smile.

"So when you're around me what do you think about?"

"Well, I don't get absent minded then. There's no one better than Mycroft Holmes. Except perhaps me but that's obvious."

She sighed. "I'm going to go lie down, my head's hurting. If I don't wake up before you leave, good luck. And if you need me call me."

"I will." he replied as Anthea pulled away to go upstairs.

* * *

"You know I got this surgery so my hand would stop hurting." Irene said to Sherlock as she ate cake. "And it's hurting even more."

"It's only temporary." Sherlock reminded her. "Oh and umm…you should probably be warned everyone's talking about your surgery and your album sales have gone up but you should really release a new one."

"Yes, I really should. I only have one to complete. Remember I was writing a new one, when you visited me all those months ago."

"I'm still waiting on it, Adler."

"You'll just have to wait, Holmes."

He sat down the plate with what was left of the slice of cake he was eating. Irene looked at him as his face became crestfallen. "Sherlock?" she muttered. "What's wrong?" She had never seen him like that since he walked into Baker Street after a case that had taken him to Devon and the Baskerville science lab. He'd told her about his dog, Redbeard.

"I'm going to die, Irene." Sherlock told her and Irene swallowed. "I will if I don't do something about Moriarty but the thing is…I could either tell you this thing or not but I can't bear to hurt you in anyway so I must tell you and I know it's also going to put a lot of stress on you and it's going to mean that-"

"Sherlock just tell me." she said, softly, stroking his cheek with her left hand.

"I need to fake my death. If I do you can't tell anyone that I'm alive."

"OK." she replied, nodding.

"Okay?"

"Yes. If this keeps you alive then I'll do it."

"I'm going to need your assistance with something."

"You tell me what it is and I'll make it happen."

* * *

Molly walked into the living room of her house. Lestrade had just moved in with her. He looked at her, and his smile faded because she wasn't wearing one. "Sherlock's still missing. Are you okay?" he asked her and she sat down on the sofa. She patted the spot next to her and put her hands in his. "What's wrong?"

"Sherlock committed suicide." Molly told him. "I spent the afternoon…doing the autopsy…" She coughed and sighed. She didn't want to do this to Greg. She really didn't. But at the same time, she had to. It was for Greg's own protection as well as Sherlock's.

"This is my fault. I let Donovan and Anderson go to-"

"Don't you dare say that Greg!" Molly snapped at him. He looked at her. "This wasn't your fault. It wasn't." She took a deep breath. "This was _not _your fault! This was Moriarty's doing! And I know he's real! And I know you know he's real! It's not your fault. It's the one's who don't believe him. It's Donovan and Anderson's. If it even has to be blamed on someone! But it's not your fault!"

He leaned in and kissed her and she wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder. "I love you, Molly Hooper."

"I love you too, Greg Lestrade." she replied. "Whatever happens, I always love you."

* * *

Sherlock's death left with a slow adjustment period for a quite a while. But it pushed John to taking a regular job, at a private clinic as a doctor. He was sitting at his desk on the third day in when the door opened and a woman he hadn't seen before spoke to him. "Miss Coffield. Possible tonsillitis."

"Sorry. I've not seen you before."

"Mary." she replied. "I'm part time."

"Oh. Yes."

And that was the first time he saw her. That was the first time John Watson saw Mary Morstan. It was not long before he was stepping out of the jewellers with the ring he'd bought and putting it in his pocket with a deep breath. It was time to move on.

A/N And that's it. The sequel is also up it's called: **Gunpowder, Weddings and Blackmail **and will follows the events of the third series. Thank you to all who subscribed, reviewed and just plain read it. Thanks very much!


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